CAPE    COD    FOLKS 


CAPE    COD    FOLKS 


BY 


SARAH    P.   McL.   GREENE 

(SALLY    PRATT    McLEAN) 


NEW    EDITION 

WITH     PHOTOGRAVURE    PORTRAIT    OF  THE    AUTHOR,  THIRTY-TWO 
FULL-PAGE    HALF-TONE    ENGRAVINGS    FROM   DESIGNS   BY 
CLARA   E.    ATWOOD    AND    FROM   ORIGINAL    PHOTO- 
GRAPHS,   AND   TWENTY-FIVE   VIGNETTES 


INTRODUCTION  BY  EMMA    E.   BROWN 


BOSTON 

DEWOLFE,  FISKE  &  co.,  PUBLISHERS 
1904 


Copyrighted,  1881, 
BY  A.  WILLIAMS  &  Co. 


Copyrighted,  1904, 
BY  DEWOLFE,  FISKE  &  Co. 


Printers 
S.  J.  PARKHILL  <fc  Co.,  BOSTON,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 


ffi. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  FAGB 

I.  ON  A  MISSION »  7 

II.  I  BLOW  THE  HORN     ...         ...  30 

III.  THE  BEAUX  OF  WALLENCAMP  PERFORM 

A  GRAVE  DUTY .  48 

IV  THE  TURKEY  MOGUL  ARRIVES     ...  70 

V.  GRANDMA  KEELEK  GETS  GRANDPA  READY 

FOR  SUNDAY  SCHOOL 93 

VI.  BECKY  AND  THE  CRADLEBOW    .     .     .     .  116 

VII.*  LUTE  CRADLEBOW  KISSES  THE  TEACHER.  137 

VIII,  FESTIVITIES  AT  THE  ARK 162 

IX.  LOVELL  BARLOW  "  POPS  THE  QUESTION."  184 

X.  A  LETTER  FROM  THE  FISHERMAN     .     .  200 

XL  A  WALLENCAMP  FUNERAL    .     .     .     .     .  211 

XII.  BECKY'S  CONFESSION 224 

XIII.  A  MILD  WINTER  ON  THE  CAPE    .     .     .  237 

XIV.  RESCUED  BY  THE  CRADLEBOW  ....  247 
XV.  DAVID  ROLLIN  IN  THE  SCHOOL-ROOM     .  259 

XVI.  GEORGE  OLVER'S  LOVE  FOR  BECKY  .     .  269 

XVII.  TEACHER  HAS  THE  FEVER.  —  DEATH  OF 

LITTLE  BESSIE 278 


viii  CONTENTS. 

XVIII.     LUTE  CRADLEBOW  GIVES  THE  TEACHER 

A  NEW  CHAIR 290 

XIX.     DEATH  OF  THE  CRADLEBOW    ....  298 

XX.     GEORGE  OLVER'S  ORATION.     ....  317 

XXI.     FAREWELL  TO  WALLENCAMP    ....  324 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

PORTRAIT  OF  THE  AUTHOR      ....       Photogravure  Frontispiece 

UP  THE  STONY  HILL  ROAD 12 

"MRS.  PHILANDER  KEELER  LIVED  AT  THE  'ARK'"  ...  26 

THE  ALEWIVES  BEGIN  TO  RUN 38 

THE  SCHOOLHOUSE 40 

"  SOME  WERE  QUITE  BROWN  AND  UNADORNED  "  .     .     .  42 
"OPPOSITE  THE  SCHOOLHOUSE    STOOD  A  HOUSE   WITH   A 

RED  DOOR" 44 

THROUGH  THE  CEDAR  ROAD  TO  THE  BEACH 48 

"  TEACHER,  THIS  is  OUR  CHAMPION  FIDDLER  "     .     .     .     .  61 

"TEACHER,  SIMMY'S  SWALLERED  A  SLATE  PENCIL"   ...  81 

"PHEW!  LORDY!  AIN'T  You  MOST  THROUGH,  MA?"     .     .  99 

"THE  MAN  TURNED  AND  LOOKED  AT  Us" 105 

"THE  CHURCH  WAS  A  SQUARE  WOODEN  EDIFICE"   .     .     .  106 

"WE-COME  FISHING  HERE  SOMETIMES" 112 

DOWN  THE  RIVER  TO  THE  SEA 132 

"GODFREY  CRADLEBOW'S  PLACE  WAS  AS  SMALL  AND  POOR 

AS  ANY  " 142 

THE  INDIAN  CAMP  MEETING  HOUSE 146 

"  THE  CORN-POPPER  WITH  ITS  CONTENTS  WAS  PRECIPITATED 

TO  THE  FLOOR" 172 

"GRANDMA  KEELER  SWAYING  WILDLY  IN  THE  STERN"     .  189 

"Wny  DOES  A  HEN  Go  AROUND  THE  ROAD?"   ....  191 

"AND  Do  You,  LOVELL,  TAKE  THIS  WOMAN?"       ...  196 

ALONG  THE  BEACH  AT  Low  TIDE 198 

ix 


x  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

OFF  FOR  A  FISHING  TRIP  .  206 

THE  ROCKS  AT  Low  TIDE 208 

"  I  STOOD  ON  THE  STEPS  OF  THE  DESERTED  SCHOOLHOUSE 

AN  BLEW  " 220 

A  GOOD  CATCH 234 

THE  SUNNY  KITCHEN  AWAY  OUT  AT  THE  END  OF  THE 

"ARK" 239 

THE  JOYFUL  ADVENT  OF  SPRING ...  242 

LOBSTER  TIME 244 

"I  WENT  DOWN  TO  BESSIE  AND  WOKE  HER  GENTLY"  .  279 
"THE  PORTIEST  LITTLE  CRAFT,  THAT  RUNS  JUST  LIKE  A 

PICTER  " • 301 

AN  OLD  LANDMARK  OF  CAPE  COD 308 

"THEY  PASS  TO  THEIR  SWEET  WILD  REST  BESIDE  THE 

SEA" : 337 


- 

**=-.!  "**-»• V'*  5* 


INTRODUCTION. 

IT  is  needless  to  say  indeed  it  is  a  foregone  con- 
clusion —  that  this  new  edition  de  luxe  of  "  Cape  Cod 
Folks,"  with  its  fine  illustrations  taken  from  real  scenes, 
will  be  enthusiastically  welcomed  by  the  many  admirers 
of  that  famous  novel. 

One  secret  of  the  book's  power,  it  seems  to  me,  lies 
in  the  fact  that  its  talented  author,  Mrs.  Sarah  P.  McLean 
Greene,  is  herself  descended  from  a  long  line  of  dis- 
tinguished Cape  Cod  people.  On  her  mother's  side  she 
numbers  among  her  ancestors  Stephen  Hopkins,  who 
came  over  in  the  "Mayflower"  in  1620,  and  Nicholas 
Snow,  who  came  over  in  the  "Ann"  three  years  later. 
Through  these  early  colonists  she  holds,  it  will  be  seen, 
close  kinship  to  not  a  few  "Cape  Cod  Folks"  of  the 
present  day. 

Few  of  her  many  readers  are  aware  it  was  when  she 
was  a  girl  of  twenty-three  that  this  remarkable  book  was 
written.  One  of  her  schoolmates  who  had  been  teaching 
"  down  on  the  Cape  "  was  unable  to  continue  with  the 
work,  and  urged  Miss  McLean  to  take  the  school. 
Greatly  to  the  surprise  of  her  family  she  decided  to  do 
so,  and  for  five  memorable  months  she  taught  and 
learned  at  Cape  Cod. 

On  her  return  home,  she  began  to  jot  down,  at  odd 
moments,  her  recollections  of  those  novel  experiences, 
the  amusing  idioms  of  the  people,  and  their  quaint 
customs  and  traditions.  Gradually,  the  memoranda 
took  on  the  form  and  sequence  of  a  story,  but  as  all  this 


xii  INTRODUCTION. 

was  done  with  no  thought  that  the  manuscript  would 
meet  other  eyes  than  her  own,  she  used  the  familiar 
names. 

When  the  book  seemed  finished,  she  put  it  in  a  box 
and  shoved  it  away  on  an  upper  shelf  in  her  grand- 
father's library,  dismissing  the  whole  matter  from  her 
mind.  Some  time  after,  a  relative  in  touch  with  the 
makers  of  books  happened  to  express  the  wish  that  Miss 
McLean  would  write  something  for  publication,  as  he 
had  noticed  she  was  a  most  entertaining  letter  writer. 
So,  one  day,  she  took  down  the  manuscript  from  the 
library  shelf,  nailed  a  cover  on  the  same  little  wooden 
box  which  had  held  the  loose  sheets  all  this  time,  and 
drove  to  the  village  express  office  to  speed  the  literary 
venture  on  its  way. 

Her  suspense  was  brief,  for  the  publisher  sat  up  all 
night  over  the  manuscript  and  wrote  that  he  wished  to 
bring  it  out  at  once.  Miss  McLean  told  him  that  the 
names  were  familiar  in  the  locality  she  had  written  about, 
but  he  was  a  young  member  of  the  firm  and  it  was  his 
first  venture  in  publishing,  as  it  was  hers  in  novel  writ- 
ing :  moreover  the  story  was  ideal  and  not  intended  to 
be  taken  literally.  The  book  immediately  met  with  great 
success,  but  when  it  reached  the  remote  hamlet  on  Cape 
Cod  the  people  felt  themselves  sorely  aggrieved.  This 
caused  the  warm-hearted,  sensitive  writer  the  keenest 
pain,  she  could  not  forgive  herself  then  nor  can  she  now. 
But  naught  was  set  down  in  malice,  and,  as  one  reader 
happily  expresses  it,  "  their  deeper  experiences  are  de- 
picted with  so  gentle  a  touch  that  it  would  seem  the 
sketcher  and  the  sketched  might  still  clasp  friendly  hands 
across  the  '  narrer  neck  o'  land.'  " 


INTRODUCTION. 


Xlll 


Mrs.  S.  P.  McLean  Greene  comes  of  a  scholarly  race. 
Her  paternal  grandfather,  the  Rev.  Allan  McLean,  who 
was  graduated  from  Yale  in  1805,  was  pastor  of  the 
Presbyterian  church  in  Simsbury,  Conn.,  for  fifty  years. 
Mrs.  Greene  may  well  be  proud  of  the  fine  union  of 
Scotch  and  English  blood  in  her  veins,  and  to  fully 
appreciate  her  delightful  books,  one  needs  to  know  the 
charming  personality  of  the  author  herself.  A  woman 
of  striking,  commanding  presence,  she  shows  in  her  face 
the  beauty,  tenderness,  and  cheery  optimism  of  her  broad, 
sweet  spirit.  Generous,  frank-hearted  and  magnetic, 
the  simple  pressure  of  her  hand  seems  like  a  benedic- 
tion, and  to  hear  her  tell  a  story  in  her  rich-toned,  musi- 
cal voice  is  a  treat  long  to  be  remembered. 

EMMA  E.  BROWN. 


r 


CHAPTER    I. 

ON   A    MISSION. 

"  Lo,  on  a  narrer  neck  o'  land, 
'Twixt  two  unbounded  seas,  I  stand !  " 

UNT  SIBYLLA  was  not  sporting,  now,  in  the 
airy  realms  of  metaphor.  Aunt  Sibylla  stood 
upon  Cape  Cod,  and  her  voice  rang  out  with 
that  peculiar  sweep  and  power  which  the  presence  of  a 
dread  reality  alone  can  give.  Something  of  the  preca- 
riousness  of  her  situation,  too,  was  expressed  in  the 
wild,  alarming,  though  graceful,  gesture  of  her  arms. 
It  was  before  the  long-projected  canal  separating 

7 


8  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

Cape  Cod  from  the  mainland  had  been  put  under 
active  process  of  preparation. 

It  was  at  an  evening  meeting  in  the  Wallencamp 
school-house.  A  row  of  dingy,  smoking  lanterns  had 
been  set  against  the  wall  and  afforded  the  only  light 
cast  upon  the  scene.  Aunt  Sibylla  Cradlebow,  the 
speaker,  was  tall  and  dark-eyed,  with  an  almost  super- 
human litheness  of  body,  and  a  weird,  beautiful  face. 

"  And,  oh,  my  dear  brothers  and  sisters  and  oncon- 
varted  friends ! "  she  continued  ;  "  how  little  do  we 
realize  the  reskiness  of  our  situwation  here  on  the  Cape  ! 
Here  we  stand  with  them  ar  identical  unbounded  seas 
a  rollin'  up  on  ary  side  of  us !  the  world  a  pintin'  at  us 
as  them  that  should  be  always  ready,  with  our  lamps 
trimmed  and  burnin' !  and,  yit,  oh  my  dear  brothers 
and  sisters  and  onconvarted  friends !  as  fur  as  I  have 
been  inland  —  and  I  have  been  a  consid'able  ways 
inland,  as  you  all  know,  whar  it  would  seem  no  more 
than  nateral  that  folks  should  settle  down  kind  o'  safe 
and  easy  on  a  dry  land  univarse  —  I  say,  as  fur  as  I 
have  been  inland,  I  never  see  sech  keeryins  on  and 
carnal  works,  sech  keerlessness  for  the  present  and 
onconsarn  for  the  futur',  as  I  have  amongst  the  be- 
nighted critturs  who  stand  before  me  this  evenin',  a 
straddlin'  this  poor,  old,  Godforsaken  Pot  Hook  !  " 

Clearer  and  louder  grew  Aunt  Sibylla's  tones ;  her 
eyes  lightened  with  terrible  meaning  ;  her  words  flowed 
with  an  unction  that  was  unmistakable  ;  and,  at  length, 
"Oh,  run  for  the  Ark,  ye  poor,  lost  sinners,"  she 
exclaimed.  "  Oh,  run  for  the  Ark,  my  onconvarted 
friends  !  Don't  ye  hear  the  waves  a  comin'  in  ?  They're 
a  rollin'  swift  and  sure  !  They're  a  rollin'  in  sure  as 
death !  Run  for  the  Ark !  Run  for  the  Ark  1 " 


CAPE  COD   FOLKS.  9 

Now,  there  was  in  Wallencamp  a  literal  Ark,  other- 
wise this  exhortation  would  have  lacked  its  most 
convincing  force  and  significance.  But  Aunt  Sibylla 
paused.  Among  the  usually  restless  audience,  there 
was  a  moment  of  almost  breathless  suspense.  Not 
half  a  mile  away,  behind  a  strip  of  cedar  woods,  we 
could  plainly  hear  the  surf  rolling  in  from  the  "bay, 
breaking  hard  against  the  shore  with  its  awful,  monoto- 
nous moan,  moan,  moan. 

My  heart  was  already  faint  with  home-sickness.  The 
effect  of  that  waiting  moment  was  as  sombre  as  anything 
I  had  ever  experienced.  Much  to  my  distaste,  I  found 
myself  sympathizing  with  the  vague  terror  and  unrest 
around  me.  I  can  hear  it  still,  the  voice  that  then  rose, 
singing,  through  the  sullen  gloom  of  the  school-room,  a 
strangely  sweet  and  rapturous  voice  —  Madeline's.  I 
learned  to  know  it  well  afterwards.  I  listened  with  rapt 
surprise  to  the  pathos  with  which  it  thrilled  the  simple 
words  of  the  song :  — 

"  Shall  we  meet  beyond  the  River, 
Wherethe  surges  cease  to  roll, 
Where,  in  all  the  bright  forever, 
Sorrow  ne'er  shall  press  the  soul  ? " 

A  keenly  responsive  chord  had  been  touched  in  the 
simple,  agitated  breasts  of  the  Wallencampers,  and  they 
joined  in  the  chorus  —  those  rough  people  —  not  with 
their  usual  reckless  exuberance  of  tone,  but  plaintively, 
tremblingly  even,  as  though,  whatever  the  words,  they 
would  make  of  them  a  prayer  in  which  to  hide  some 
secret  doubt  or  longing  of  their  souls. 

"  Shall  we  meet,  shall  we  meet, 
Shall  we  meet  beyond  the  River  ?  " 


I0  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

The  strain  was  repeated  with  a  most  pathetic  quaver 
in  the  rendering,  and  then  big  Captain  Sartell  broke 
down,  with  a  helpless  gulp  in  his  voice,  and  I,  who 
believed  myself  of  too  superior  and  refined  a  nature  to 
be  moved  by  such  tawdry  sentiment,  was  further  dis- 
mayed to  feel  the  tears  gathering  fast  in  my  own  eyes. 

After  the  meeting,  on  the  school-house  steps,  the  big 
Captain,  as  if  to  atone  for  any  unmanly  exhibition  of 
feeling  into  which  he  might  have  been  betrayed  inside, 
took  little  Bachelor  Lot  up  by  the  shoulders,  and  gently 
and  playfully  held  him  suspended  in  mid-air,  while  he 
put  to  him  the  following  riddle  :  — 

"  I'll  wager  a  quarter,  on  a  good,  squar'  guess,  Bach- 
elder.  Why  is  —  why  air  Aunt  Sibby's  remarks  like 
this  'ere  peninshaler,  eh,  Bachelder  ?  " 

"  Because  —  ahem  !  —  because  they're  always  a  run- 
nin'  to  a  p'int,  eh  ?  "  inquired  the  keen  little  bachelor. 

"  No,  by  thunder !  "  exclaimed  the  discomfited  Captain, 
setting  the  magician  down  promptly.  "  As  near  as  I 
calk'late,"  he  continued,  endeavoring  to  resume  his 
former  air  of  cool  and  reckless  raillery ;  "  as  near  as  I 
calk'late,  Bachelder,  —  yes,  sir,  as  near  as  I  calk'late, 
—  it's  —  it's — by  thunder!  it's  because  they're  both 
liable  to  squalls  in  fa'r  weather !  " 

Amazed,  and  almost  frightened  at  the  unexpected 
brilliancy  of  his  evil  success,  the  Captain  yet  kept  a  rue- 
ful and  furtive  eye  on  the  little  bachelor. 

Bachelor  Lot  coughed  slightly  and  smiled.  "  Very 
true,"  he  drawled,  cheerfully,  in  his  small',  thin  voice ; 
"I'm  —  ahem  !  —  I'm  not  a  married  man  myself,  you 
know,  Captain.  However,"  he  added;  "you  should 
have  given  me  another  try.  I  had  the  correct  answer 
on  my  tongue's  end." 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  II 

During  this  brief  exchange  between  the  stars  of  the 
Wallencamp  debate  ground,  murmurs  of  appreciative 
applause  arose  from  the  group  of  bystanders,  and  "  Pretty 
tight  pinch  for  you,  Captain  ! "  and  "  Three  cheers  for 
Bachelder!  ye  can't  git  ahead  of  Bachelder!"  sprang 
delightedly  from  lip  to  lip. 

Aunt  Sibylla  had  scented  from  within  this  buoyant 
resumption  of  the  Wallencamp  mirth,  and  now  appeared 
on  the  scene,  bearing  a  burning  lantern  in  her  hand. 
She  first  turned  the  glare  of  its  full  orb  on  the  late  sin- 
convicted  Captain,  who  stood  revealed  with  a  guilty  grin 
frozen  helplessly  on  his  alarmed  features,  aud  next 
directed  the  beams  of  disclosing  justice  towards  the  form 
of  the  little  bachelor,  who,  with  too  pronounced  meekness, 
was  engaged  in  readjusting  the  collar  of  his  coat. 

"  At  it  ag'in  !  "  Aunt  Sibylla  exclaimed,  with  slow  and 
cutting  emphasis.  "  At  it  ag'in !  I  do  believe  you're  all 
possessed  of  the  devil !  " 

Then,  with  one  sweep  of  the  lantern,  she  took  a  com- 
prehensive survey  of  the  shivering  group,  and  passed  on 
without  another  word,  while  in  the  breast  of  every  guilty 
Wallencamper  then  present  there  rested  a  deep  sense  of 
merited  condemnation. 

Aunt  Sibylla  was  soon  followed  by  the  other  lantern- 
bearers,  who  dispersed  homeward,  along  the  four  roads 
diverging  from  the  school-house,  and,  the  night  being 
starless,  the  children  of  the  darkness  followed  meekly  in 
their  wake. 

The  longest  route  lay  before  those  who  took  the  River 
Road  leading  to  the  Indian  Encampment.  Bachelor  Lot 
was  the  hindmost  in  this  receding  column.  Bachelor 
Lot,  though  too  withered  and  brown  of  visage  to  afford 


I2  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

immediate  enlightenment  as  to  his  species,  was  held  to  be 
of  unquestionable  white  descent.  Yet  he  kept  house, 
alone,  at  the  Indian  Encampment. 

Then  there  was  the  Stony  Hill  Road,  up  which  a  few 
pilgrims  toiled ;  and  the  Cross  Lot  Road  to  the  beach 
—  thither  went  the  Barlows.  Last  of  all,  there  was  the 
Lane,  and  it  was  somewhat  in  the  rear  of  the  lane  pro- 
cession that  I  musingly  wended  my  way,  led  by  the  beams 
of  Grandma  Keeler's  slowly  swaying  lantern. 

I  was  the  Wallencamp  school-teacher.  I  had  come  to 
"  this  rock-bound  coast,"  imagining  myself  impelled  by 
much  the  same  necessity  as  that  which  fired  the  bosoms 
of  the  earlier  pilgrims.  Not  that  I  had  been  restricted 
in  respect  to  religious  privileges,  but  I  sought  for  a  true 
independence  of  life  and  aim  ;  and  furthermore,  it  should 
be  said,  I  had  come  to  Wallencamp  on  a  mission.  "  On 
a  mission  ! "  how  the  thought  had  tickled  my  fancy  and 
roused  my  warmest  enthusiasm  but  a  few  short  days 
before  !  Indeed,  I  had  not  been  yet  a  week  in  Wallen- 
camp, and  now,  as  I  walked  up  the  lane  in  a  mood  quite 
the  reverse  of  enthusiastic.  I  was  painfully  trying  to 
gather  from  my  small  and  scattered  sources  of  informa- 
tion what  the  exact  meaning  of  the  phrase  might  be. 

I  had  entered  on  the  performance  of  my  errand  to 
Wallencamp  under  circumstances  not  usual,  perhaps, 
among  propagandists ;  nevertheless,  I  had  been  singularly 
free  from  misgivings. 

A  girl  of  nineteen  years,  I  had  a  home  endowed  with 
every  luxury ;  a  circle  of  family  acquantance,  which,  I  ad- 
mitted, did  me  great  credit ;  congenial  companions ;  while 
as  for  my  education,  I  was  pleased  to  call  it  completed. 
My  career  at  boarding-schools  had  been  of  a  delight- 


CAPE   COD    FOLKS.  13 

fully  varied  and  elective  nature,  for  I  had  not  deigned 
to  toil  with  squalid  studiousness,  or  even  to  sail 
with  politic  and  inglorious  ease  through  the  pre- 
scribed course  of  study  at  any  institution.  Any  mis- 
adventures necessarily  following  from  this  course  my 
friends  had  gilded  over  with  the  flattering  insinuation 
that  I  was  "  too  vivacious  "  for  this  sort  of  discipline,  or 
"  too  fragile  "  for  that,  though  I  am  bound  to  say  that, 
in  such  cases,  my  "vivacity"  had  generally  sealed  my 
fate  before  the  delicacy  of  my  constitution  became  too 
alarmingly  apparent. 

I  had,  to  be  sure,  a  few  commendable  aspirations,  but 
I  had  started  out  fresh  so  many  times  with  them  only 
to  see  them  meet  the  same  end  ! 

Though  not  by  nature  of  a  self-depreciatory  turn  of 
mind,  I  had  occasional  flashes  of  inspiration,  to  the 
effect  that,  in  spite  of  the  soft  flattery  of  friends,  I  really 
was  amounting  to  very  little  after  all.  It  was  in  a 
mood  induced  by  one  of  these  supernatural  gleams  that 
I  stood  on  one  occasion,  leaning  a  pair  of  very  plump 
arms  on  the  graveyard  wall,  looking  wistfully  over  into 
the  place  of  tombs,  and  thinking  how  nice  it  would  be  to 
have  done  forever  with  the  fret  and  turmoil  of  life  ! 
And  it  was  at  such  a  time,  too,  that  I  received  from  a 
school  friend,  Mary  Waite,  the  letter  which  was  the  mov- 
ing cause  of  my  mission  to  Wallencamp. 

Mary  Waite,  by  the  way,  was  one  of  those  "  prosy, 
ridiculous  girls"  —  so  I  had  been  compelled  to  classify 
her,  although  I  was  secretly  troubled  by  a  sincere  admira- 
tion of  her  virtues,  —  who  had  made  it  an  absorbing 
pursuit  of  her  school-days  to  probe  her  text-books  for 
useful  information,  and  was  also  accustomed  to  defer  to 


I4  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

her  teachers  as  high  authority  on  matters  of  daily  dis- 
cipline. She  was  not  in  "  our  set."  She  was  poor,  and 
studious,  and  obedient,  yet  a  friendship  had  sprung  up 
between  her  and  me,  and  I  was  moved  to  forgive  her 
the,  in  many  respects,  grovelling  tendencies  of  her 
nature.  I  even  ascended  occasionally  to  her  room  on 
the  fourth  floor  to  shock  her  with  my  sentiments,  when 
there  was  nothing  livelier  going  on. 

She  wrote :  — 

"  Mv  DEAR  S :  Are  you  still  perfectly  happy,  as 

you  used  to  try  to  have  me  think  you  were  always  —  the 
old  restlessness,  the  better  longings  unsatisfied,  do  they 
never  come  up  again  ?  [That  was  Mary's  insidious  way 
of  stating  a  difficulty.]  Don't  you  believe  you  would 
be  happier  to  do  something  in  real  earnest  ?  Something 
for  people  outside,  I  mean.  [I  flushed  a  little  at  that. 
An  insinuation  of  that  sort  can't  be  put  too  delicately.] 
I  have  tried  to  imagine  how  the  proposal  I  am  going  to 
make  will  strike  you  —  but  never  mind.  I  am  teaching, 
you  know,  in  Kedarville.  I  leave  here,  at  the  close  of 
the  term,  for  another  field  of  labor,  and  now  I  want  you 
to  apply  for  the  Kedarville  school.  Yes,  it  is  a  remote, 
poverty-stricken  place.  It  contains  no  society,  no 
church,  no  library,  not  even  a  little  country  store !  It 
would  seem  to  you,  I  dare  say,  like  going  back  to  the 
half-barbarous  conditions  of  life.  The  people  are 
simple  and  kind-hearted  ;  but  they  need  training  —  oh, 
how  much  !  —  physically,  mentally,  and  morally.  I  can 
assure  you,  here  is  scope  for  the  most  daring  missionary 
enterprise,  and  you,  —  I  believe  that  you  could  do  it  if 
you  would.  Consider  the  matter  seriously ;  consult 
with  your  friends  about  it,  and  if  you  do  decide  to  try 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  jij 

the  experiment,  write  as  legibly  as  you  possibly  can  to 
the  Superintendent  of  Schools,  Farmouth,  Mass.,  stating 
your  qualifications,  etc." 

The  idea  struck  me  with  such  strange  and  immediate 
favor  that  I  quite  forbore  to  consult  with  my  friends  in 
regard  to  it.  I  resolved  to  go  on  the  instant,  and  wrote 
my  friend  Mary  to  that  effect,  congratulating  her,  with 
an  undercurrent  of  mischievous  intention,  on  having 
been  the  happy  means  of  setting  my  powers  drifting  in 
the  right  direction  at  last ;  and  reproached  her  gently 
with  having  seemed  to  imply,  once,  in  her  letter,  some 
occult  reason  why  I  had  not  been  regarded,  heretofore, 
as  specially  designed  to  work  in  the  cause  of  missions, 
whereas  I  had  always  felt  myself  drifting  inevitably 
towards  that  end. 

I  wrote  to  the  Superintendent  of  the  Farmouth  schools. 
But  here  I  had  an  earnest  purpose  to  serve,  and  a  real 
desire  to  succeed,  and  here  met  with  a  difficulty.  I 
had  not  the  art  of  presenting  my  earnest  purposes  in  the 
most  assuring  and  credible  manner.  They  would 
wear,  in  spite  of  me,  an  uneasy  air  of  novelty ;  yet  I 
aimed  nobly.  I  dilated  largely  on  some  of  the  evils 
existing  in  the  present  system  of  education,  and  hinted 
at  reforms  not  yet  meditated  by  the  world  at  large ;  but 
skilfully  forgot  to  mention  my  own  qualifications. 

On  reading  the  letter  over,  I  was  astonished  at  the 
flattering  nature  of  the  result,  and,  with  the  buoyant 
pride  of  one  who  believes  he  has  suddenly  discovered  a 
new  resource  in  himself,  I  sent  a  copy  of  my  application 
to  Mary  Waite.  She  answered  in  the  language  of 
sorrowful  reproach  :  — 

"Oh,  S.,  how  could  you ?" 


l6  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

I  was  forced  to  conclude  that,  as  usual,  I  had  some- 
how made  a  misstep,  and  sought  to  conceal  my  morti- 
fication as  best  I  might,  by  persuading  myself  and  my 
friend  that  I  had  only  regarded  the  matter  as  a  joke  all 
through.  Nevertheless,  I  was  bitterly  disappointed. 

What  was  my  surprise,  then,  a  few  days  afterwards, 
to  receive  this  communication  from  the  Superintendent 
of  Schools :  — 

"  You  are  accepted  to  fill  the  position  of  teacher  in 
the  Kedarville  school."  Then  followed  terse  directions 
as  to  the  best  way  of  reaching  Kedarville,  and,  finally : 
"  Mrs.  Philander  Keeler  will  board  you  for  two  dollars 
and  fifty  cents  per  week." 

As  I  read  this  last  clause  everything  that  had  made 
a  sudden  tumult  in  my  mind  before  was  lulled  into  a 
mysterious  calm. 

It  was  not  the  low  value  set  upon  the  means  of  sub- 
sistence in  Kedarville.  Mercenary  motives  were,  with 
me,  as  yet  out  of  the  question.  It  was  not  the  oppress- 
ive charm  of  Mrs.  Philander  Keeler's  name  that  affected 
me  so  strangely.  It  was  the  expressive  combination  of 
the  whole,  at  once  so  clear  cut  and  unique.  I  murmured 
it  softly  to  myself  on  my  way  home  from  the  Post- 
office. 

"  Han,"  said  I,  quite  gravely,  to  my  elder  sister  on 
entering  the  house;  "  Mrs.  Philander  Keeler  will  board 
me  for  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents  per  week  : "  and  handed 
her  the  letter  in  pensive,  though  triumphant,  confirmation 
of  my  words. 

"  When  did  you  do  this  ?  "  she  gasped,  and,  before  I 
could  answer,  "  how  are  you  going  to  get  out  of  it  ? " 
she  faintly  demanded. 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  1 7 

"  Simply  by  getting  into  it,  my  dear,"  I  answered, 
with  that  unyielding  sweetness  of  demeanor  for  which 
I  fancied  I  had  ever  been  distinguished  in  the  family 
circle. 

I  began  to  make  my  preparations  for  departure  with- 
out delay. 

Tender  remonstrances,  studied  expostulations,  were 
alike  of  no  avail,  and  they  helped  me  to  pack,  finally  — 
those  dear  good  people  at  home  —  putting  as  brave  a 
face  as  they  could  upon  it,  and  hoping  for  the  best.  My 
father  assured  my  mother,  though  with  trembling  lip  and 
tearful  eye,  that  "  God  would  temper  the  wind  to  the 
shorn  lamb."  I  smiled  at  the  part  I  was  meant  to  play 
in  this  cheerful  allegory,  though  it  seemed  to  me  rather 
inappropriate,  as  I  had  a  new  sealskin  cloak  that  very 
winter. 

At  the  last  I  gathered  from  the  new  and  sprightlier 
form  which  the  family  submissiveness  assumed,  as  well 
as  from  certain  inadvertent  disclosures  of  Bridget's,  that 
I  was  confidently  expected  home  again  "  in  the  course 
of  a  week  or  two."  And  I  thereupon  doubly  confirmed 
myself  in  the  resolve  to  see  this  thing  through  or  die  in 
the  attempt. 

I  cannot  define  the  motives  which  actuated  me  at  this 
time.  They  do  not  appear  to  have  flowed  in  a  clear  and 
pellucid  stream.  I  discover  a  thirst  for  the  surprising 
and  experimental,  for  situations,  dilemmas,  and  emer- 
gencies, sustained  by  the  most  sublime  recklessness  as 
to  consequences.  Then  I  see  a  dread  of  sinking  into 
humdrum  —  the  impulse  never  to  be  at  rest ;  deeper 
than  all  this,  I  find  a  secret  dissatisfaction  with  myself,  a 
vague  longing  to  use  the  best  that  is  in  me  to  some  true 


18  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

purpose  ;  a  desire  to  leave  the  tangled  skein,  and  "  begin 
all  over  again." 

It  was  early  in  January  when  I  set  out  on  my  mission 
to  the  distant  shores  of  Cape  Cod.  It  was  also,  I 
remember,  very  early  in  the  morning,  and  John  Cable 
occupied  a  seat  in  the  car.  I  had  reason  to  know  that 
John  shared  in  the  family  disapproval  of  my  sublime 
conduct.  He  sat,  looking  very  glum  behind  his  paper, 
and  appeared  not  to  notice  me  when  I  came  in.  Hav- 
ing finished  reading  his  paper,  he  gnawed  his  moustache 
and  gazed,  still  with  glaring  unconsciousness  of  my  pres- 
ence, out  of  the  window.  But  as  we  neared  Hartford, 
where  I  was  to  take  the  train  for  Boston,  he  came  over 
to  where  I  sat. 

"  I  hope  you'll  enjoy  yourself  at  Sandy  Creek  this 
winter,"  he  said. 

Now,  I  knew  that  John  had  designed  this  as  sarcasm 
the  most  scathing,  but  he  was  himself  conscious  of  failure, 
and  the  thought  filled  him  with  deeper  gloom.  He  sought 
to  reveal  his  baffled  intentions  in  a  scowl,  which  lent  to 
his  manly  and  intelligent  features  the  darkness  of  spirit- 
ual night.  And  I  replied,  that  "  the  recollection  of  his 
face,  as  it  then  appeared  to  me,  would  be  in  itself  an 
inspiration  through  all  the  days  to  come." 

There  was  silence  for  a  space,  and  then  John  contin 
ued :  — 

"  Have  you  found  it  on  the  map,  yet  ?  " 

"  What,  please  ?  " 

"  Kedarville  !  "  with  bitter  emphasis. 

"  Oh  !  certainly  not." 

"It  may  be  a  little  island  out  there  somewhere,  you 
know,"  delivered  with  the  effect  of  a  masterpiece. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  19 

"  Yes  ;  or  a  lighthouse,  possibly." 

I  saw  that  John  wished  he  had  thought  of  that  himself. 
He  became  dejected  again.  Then,  presently,  he  threw 
off  the  cloak  of  bitterness  which  sat  so  ill  on  him,  and, 
resuming  his  usual  kindliness  and  benignity  of  manner, 
succeeded  in  making  himself  unconsciously  tantalizing. 

"  If  you  do  find  it,"  he  said  ;  "  and  if  you  —  if  you 
conclude  to  stay  for  any  length  of  time,  I  think  I  will  go 
down  some  time  this  winter  and  hunt  you  up." 

"  If  you  do,  John  Cable,"  I  answered,  with  unaccount- 
able warmth  ;  "  I'll  never  forgive  you  as  long  as  I  live 
—  never." 

At  Hartford,  John  took  the  train  for  Boston,  too.  We 
were  very  old  friends.  Latterly,  we  had  read  Shakespeare 
together  at  the  Newtown  Literary  Club.  We  concluded 
not  to  quarrel  for  the  rest  of  the  way.  I  had  an  influx 
of  gay  spirits,  and  John  was  almost  without  exception 
"  nice." 

There  were  several  hours  to  wait  in  Boston  before  the 
train  on  the  Old  Colony  road  would  go  out.  We  had 
dinner  (I  little  realized  how  long  it  would  be  before  I 
should  eat  again),  and  John  tamely  suggested  driving 
about  to  look  at  some  of  the  places  of  interest.  I  assured 
him  that  there  was  nothing  so  dispiriting  as  looking  at 
places  of  interest,  and  he  answered,  cheerfully,  after  some 
moments  of  thought,  that  we  could  "  shut  our  eyes  when 
we  went  by  them,  then." 

I  had  reason  to  dread  a  decline  of  spirits.  Mine  were 
rapidly  on  the  wane.  By  the  time  we  stopped  at  the  Old 
Colony  depot  they  were  low,  indeed.  And  the  hardest 
of  all  was,  that  I  would  not,  for  my  life,  let  my  compan- 
ion know.  It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and 


20  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

already  quite  dark.  The  atmosphere  was  heavy  and 
chill ;  the  sky  ominous  with  clouds.  I  had  an  unknown 
journey  yet  to  take  in  search  of  an  unknown  destination. 
The  car  into  which  I  got  on  the  Cape-bound  train  was 
dismal  and  weird-seeming  enough. 

"  I  wish,  if  you  must  go,  you  would  let  me  see  you  to 
the  end  of  this,"  said  John. 

I  answered,  laughing,  with  an  unnecessary  tinge  of 
defiance  in  my  tone.  It  would  have  been  so  much  easier 
to  cry.  I  thought,  "  If  John  would  only  try  to  look  cross 
again  !  "  as  he  did  in  the  morning —  anything  but  that 
expression  of  grieved  and  compassionate  disapproval 
with  which  he  sat,  talking  so  earnestly  to  me,  for  the  last 
few  moments  in  that  dark  car.  I  thought  he  was  cruel. 
He  was  trying  to  make  me  think,  and  I  was  trying  so 
hard  not  to  think !  I  felt  a  childish  desire  to  scream 
out.  Then,  when  the  signal  for  starting  rang,  and  John 
took  my  hand  an  instant,  in  parting,  looking  down  at  me 
with  his  kind,  familiar  eyes,  the  impulse  swept  up  strong 
within  me  to  beg  him  to  take  me  out  of  that  dreadful 
car  and  take  me  back  home,  and  I  would  be  good,  oh, 
so  good,  and  "prosy,"  yes,  and  "humdrum,"  and  never 
ask  to  go  on  any  more  missions  to  forlorn  pieces  of  land 
sticking  out  into  the  water. 

So  there  must  have  been  a  wild  extravagance  in  the 
airy  recklessness  of  tone  with  which  I  bade  John  "good- 
bye." A  sense  of  utter  helplessness  came  over  me  as  he 
turned  and  went  out. 

I  observed,  particularly,  but  two  passengers  in  the  car. 
One  was  a  man,  very  much  bandaged  as  to  his  head,  who 
sat  gazing  into  the  coal-stove,  which  occupied  the  centre 
of  the  car,  with  weakly  meditative,  burnt-out  eyes.  The 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  21 

other  was  a  girl,  occupying  the  seat  directly  in  front  of 
me.  She  might  have  been  nine  years  old,  but  she  had  a 
singularly  faded  and  mature  countenance.  As  the  train 
started,  she  turned  to  me  with  some  excitement :  — 

"  There  !  "  said  she,  pointing  towards  the  window ; 
'  your  beau's  walking  off  !  He's  walking  fast !  He 
ain't  looking  back  !  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  I,  in  a  low,  expressionless  tone, 
not  intended  as  an  inducement  to  further  conversation. 

This  girl  had  a  parcel  of  confectionery,  the  contents  of 
which  she  occasionally  took  out,  and  ranged  in  a  row 
on  the  window  ledge,  selecting  therefrom  the  smallest 
and  least  inviting  fragment,  and  having  eaten  it  with  the 
hasty  air  of  one  who  treats  herself  under  protest  to  the 
luscious  prerogatives  of  childhood,  put  the  rest  back  in 
the  paper-bag,  carefully  replacing  the  string  every  time. 
She  selected  and  handed  to  me  the  very  largest  specimen 
in  her  collection,  which  I  had  the  gracelessness  to  refuse, 
though  without  show  of  disgust.  Afterwards  she  asked 
if  she  might  come  and  sit  in  the  seat  with  me.  I  thought 
she  was  very  disagreeable.  Besides,  I  was  so  miserable 
I  wanted  to  commune  apart  with  my  own  loneliness. 
However,  I  made  room  for  her. 

She  proceeded  to  confide  to  me  all  of  her  past  history. 
She  was  returning  home  from  a  visit  to  her  aunt.  Her 
mother  had  died  a  good  many  years  ago,  "  when  Johnnie 
was  a  mere  baby."  She  "kept  house  for  father,  and 
took  care  of  Johnnie."  She  "  tried  hard  not  to  have 
father  feel  his  loss.  It  was  very  hard,"  she  added,  gravely, 
"for  a  man  to  be  left  alone  so."  She  had  bought  a 
little  book  for  Johnnie,  but  she  never  had  much  time  to 
read ;  besides  she  wasn't  quick  to  learn.  She  could 


22  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

pick  the  words  out,  to  be  sure,  but,  somehow,  it  didn't 
make  good  sense,  and  would  I  read  the  book  to  her  ? 

Oh,  to  take  counsel  of  my  own  despair  !  How  dark 
and  wild  it  was  growing  outside !  Where  was  I  going  ? 
whom  should  I  meet  there  ? 

And  so  I  read,  at  the  foot  of  gorgeously-illuminated 
pages,  how  — 

"  Henny  Penny  and  Ducky  Lucky  got  started  for  the  fair, 
When  Goosie  Poosie  and  Turkey  Lurkey  went  out  to  view  the  air,"  etc.» 

the  range  of  characters  swiftly  widening  as  the  nar- 
rative increased  in  power.  To  my  surprise,  the  mature 
child  listened  to  this  nonsense  with  the  utmost  gravity 
and  interest.  No  shadow  of  derision  played  on  her 
attentive  features.  When  I  had  finished  —  it  was  soon 
finished  —  she  said  :  — 

"  Oh,  that  sounded  so  good ;  it  made  such  good 
sense,"  and  sighed,  very  wistfully. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  read  it  again  ?  "  I  exclaimed, 
in  despair. 

Would  I  read  it  again  ?  she  asked. 

I  read  it  again. 

After  that  she  was  silent  and  thoughtful  for  some  time 
Then  she  said,  looking  gravely  into  my  face :  — 

"  Do  you  love  Jesus  ? " 

"  No,  my  dear,"  said  I,  surprised  into  much  gentleness. 

The  faded  blue  eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  had  no 
notion  of  harassing  me  on  the  subject,  but  spoke  quietly 
and  at  length  of  her  own  religious  convictions. 

The  east  wind  crept  in  through  the  window,  and 
once  my  little  companion  shivered.  I  noticed  that  she 
was  rather  thinly  clad.  I  unstrapped  my  shawl  and 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  23 

wrapped  it  around  her.  She  let  her  head  fall  at  my  side, 
and  went  to  sleep.  Slowly,  I  was  constrained  to  draw  her 
up  closer  and  put  my  arm  around  her  as  support.  In 
so  doing,  I  received  from  some  source  an  unaccountable 
strength  and  calm  of  spirit. 

At  Braintree,  which  the  child  had  told  me  was  her 
home,  I  woke  her  up,  and  she  got  off. 

I  was  to  stop  at  West  Wallen,  the  railway  station  least 
remote  from  Kedarville,  and  expected  there  to  meet 
Mrs.  Philander  Keeler,  or  some  member  of  that  mysteri- 
ous family,  to  convey  me  to  Wallencamp. 

It  seemed  as  though  the  train  had  had  time  to  travel 
the  whole  interminable  length  of  the  Cape,  and  plunge 
off  into  the  ocean  beyond,  when,  in  fact,  we  were  just 
entering  upon  that  peculiar  body  of  land  at  West 
Wallen. 

There  was  no  one  there  to  meet  me.  The  little  depbt 
was  held  by  a  strange  night  brigade  of  boys  and  girls, 
playing  "  blind-man's  buff."  They  shouted  like  canni- 
bals, and  bore  down  on  all  opposing  objects  with 
resistless  force.  I  did  not  attempt  an  entrance.  A 
rough,  good-natured  looking  man  stood  on  the  platform 
outside. 

I  put  on  my  glasses  (I  was  sadly  and  unaffectedly 
near-sighted),  and  having  further  assured  myself  of  his 
seeming  honesty,  inquired  if  there  was  such  a  place  as 
Kedarville  in  the  vicinity. 

"  Waal,  no,  miss,  thar'  ain't,"  said  he,  with  a  noonday 
smile,  which  informed  me  that  there  was  yet  something 
to  hope  for.  "  Thar's  no  Kedarville  that  I  know  on. 
Thar's  a  Wallencamp  some  miles  up  yender.  We  don't 
often  tackle  no  Sunday  go-to-meeting  names  on  to  it, 


24  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

but   I  reckon,  maybe,  it's   the   same   you're   a-lookin 
for." 

He  had  spoken  with  such  startling  indefiniteness  of  the 
distance  that  I  asked  him  how  far  it  was  to  V/allen- 
camp. 

"  Waal,  thar'  you've  got  me,"  said  he,  beaming  on  me 
in  a  broadly  complimentary  way,  as  though  I  had  actually 
circumvented  him  in  some  skilful  play  at  words.  "  Fact 
is,  thar'  ain't  never  been  no  survey  run  down  in  that 
direction  that  I  know  on.  We  call  it  four  miles,  more 
or  less.  That's  Cape  Cod  measure  —  means  most  any- 
thin'  lineal  measure.  Talkin'  'bout  Cape  Cod  miles," 
he  continued,  with  an  irresistible  air  of  raillery  ;  "  little 
Bachelder  Lot  lives  up  thar'  to  Wallencamp,  and  they 
don't  have  no  church  nor  nothin'  thar',  so  Bachelder 
and  some  on  'em  they  come  up  here,  once  in  a  while, 
ter  Sunday-school.  Deacon  Lancy,  he'd  rather  see  the 
Old  Boy  comin'  into  Sunday-school  class  any  time  than 
Bachelder ;  for  he's  quiet,  the  little  bachelder  is,  but 
dry  as  a  herrin'.  So  the  Deacon  thought  he'd  stick 
him  on  distances.  The  Deacon  is  a  great  stickler  on 
distances. 

" '  How  fur,  Bachelder,'  says  he,  '  did  Adam  and  Eve 
go  when  they  was  turned  out  of  the  garden  of  Eden  ? ' 
says  he. 

" '  Waal,'  says  Bachelder,  coughing  a  little,  so  —  that's 
Bachelder's  way  o'  talking  — '  we  have  sufficient  reason 
to  eenfer,  Deacon,  that,  in  all  probabeelity,  they  went 
a  Ceape  Cod  mile.'  " 

My  informant's  delight  at  this  reminiscence  was  huge. 
It  yielded  to  a  more  subdued  sense  of  the  ludicrous 
when  I  asked  him  if  there  was  any  public  conveyance 


CAPE  COD  FOLK'S.  2$ 

to  Wallencamp.  He  made  a  polite  effort  to  restrain 
his  mirth,  but  the  muscles  of  his  face  twitched  vio- 
lently. 

"  Waal,  no,  miss,"  said  he  ;  "  we  don't  run  no  reg'lar 
express  up  to  Wallencamp ;  might  be  a  very  healthy 
oc'pation,  but  not  as  lukertive  as  some,  I  reckon  —  not 
as  lukertive  as  pickin'  'tater-bugs  :  that's  what  they  do, 
mostly,  down  thar'.  Fact  is,  miss,"  he  concluded,  with 
considerable  gravity ;  "  we  don't  vary  often  go  down  to 
Wallencamp  unless  we're  obliged  to." 

On  my  proposing  to  make  it  lucrative,  he  immediately 
called,  in  a  loud  voice,  to  one  of  the  playful  occupants 
of  the  dep&t  : 

"  Hi,  thar ! '  'Rasmus  !  'Rasmus !  Here's  a  lady 
wants  to  be  conveyed  down  to  Wallencamp ;  you  run 
home  and  tackle,  now  !  You  be  lively,  now  !  " 

'Rasmus  was  lively.  In  a  very  few  moments  some- 
thing of  an  unusual  and  ghostly  appearance  —  so  much 
only  I  could  discover  of  what  afterwards  became  a  very 
familiar  sort  of  vehicle  —  was  waiting  for  me  alongside 
the  platform.  The  only  means  of  getting  into  it  was 
through  an  opening  directly  in  front.  Towards  this  I 
was  encouraged  to  climb  over  the  thills,  but  met  with 
an  obstacle,  in  the  form  of  my  trunk,  which  seemed 
effectually  to  block  up  the  entrance. 

"  Thar',  now  !  I  told  ye  so,"  exclaimed  one  of  the 
bystanders,  a  large  number  of  whom  had  mysteriously 
gathered  about  the  scene.  "  You'd  orter  got  her  in 
first." 

A  disconsolate  silence  prevailed.  The  trunk  had 
been  elevated  to  its  present  position  through  the  most 
painful  exertions. 


26  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

"  Perhaps  I  can  climb  over  it,"  I  said,  and  bravely 
made  the  attempt. 

No  one  knew,  in  the  voiceless  darkness,  of  the 
suddenly  helpless  and  collapsed  condition  in  which  I 
landed  on  the  other  side.  I  groped  about  for  a  seat, 
and  finally  succeeded  in  finding  one  at  the  extreme  real 
of  the  vehicle. 

'Rasmus  drove.  He  was  situated  somewhere,  some- 
how —  I  could  not  tell  where  nor  how  —  in  the  realm 
of  vacancy  on  the  other  side  of  the  trunk  ;  I  only  know 
that  he  seemed  a  long  way  off.  Under  these  circum- 
stances conversation  was  rendered  extremely  difficult. 
I  learned  that  Mr.  Philander  Keeler  was  away  at  sea ; 
that  Mrs.  Philander  Keeler  lived  at  the  Ark,  with  Cap'n 
and  Grandma  Keeler,  and  the  two  little  Keelers. 

'Rasmus  was  the  unmistakable  son  of  his  father. 

"  And  it  ain't  no  got-up  ark,  neither ! "  he  yelled  at 
me,  in  a  tone  which  pierced  through  the  distance  and 
the  darkness,  and  every  intervening  obstacle.  "  It's 
the  reg'lar  old  Ark  !  It's  what  Noer,  and  the  elephant, 
and  them  fellows  come  over  in  !  " 

I  did  not  wonder,  as  we  journeyed  on,  that  my 
informant  of  the  depot  platform  had  used  his  "  ups " 
and  "  downs  "  indiscriminately  in  indicating  the  direction 
of  Wallencamp.  In  the  inky  blackness  by  which  I  was 
surrounded  I  was  conscious,  clearly,  of  but  one  sensa- 
tion —  that  of  going  up  and  down.  The  rumbling  of  the 
wheels  reached  me  as  something  far  off  and  indefinably 
dreadful. 

Then  we  stopped,  and  I  crawled  out  like  one  in  a 
dream.  There  was  no  light  at  the  Ark  to  make  it  a 
distinguishable  feature  of  the  gloom.  'Rasmus  found 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  2/ 

the  door  and  knocked  loudly.  I  became  dimly  conscious 
of  the  knocking,  and  followed  'Rasmus. 

"I  reckon  they're  to  bed,"  said  he,  and  knocked 
louder. 

Pretty  soon  a  clear,  feminine  veice,  startled  into 
musical  sharpness,  issued  from  a  room  quite  near, 
with  — "  Who's  there  ? "  and  was  followed  by  two 
small,  squealing  voices,  in  unison,  —  "Who's  there?" 

Then  other  sounds  arose  —  sounds  from  some  quarter 
mysterious  and  remote  —  a  low,  mumbling,  comfortable 
refrain,  and  ominous  snatches  of  an  uneasy  grumble; 
then  a  roar  that  shook  the  Ark  to  its  foundations  : — 

"  Who  the  devil's  making  such  a  rumpus  out  there  at 
this  time  in  the  mornin'  ?  "  (It  was  nine  o'clock  P.M.) 
'Rasmus  sent  back  an  intrepid  yell :  — 

"  It's  the  tea-cher !  It's  pretty  late,"  he  said,  aside, 
to  me.  "  I  guess  I  won't  go  in.  I  reckon  they  won't 
have  much  style  on.  I  seen  ye  pay  father ;  that's  all 
right.  I'll  tip  yer  trunk  up  under  the  shed,  and  the  old 
Cap'n  '11  see  to  gettin'  it  in  in  the  mornin'.  Here's  a  letter 
the  postmaster  sent  down  to  the  Cap'n's  folks.  Good 
night." 

'Rasmus,  my  only  hope  !  I  made  a  convulsive  grasp 
for  him  in  the  darkness,  but  he  was  gone. 

It  was  she  of  the  soothing,  comfortable  voice  who 
took  me  in ;  and  Grandma  Keeler's  taking  in  I  under- 
stand always  in  the  divinest  and  fullest  sense  of  the 
term. 

Further  than  that,  I  was  conscious  that  there  were 
white-robed  and  nightcapped  figures  moving  about  the 
room.  So  unearthly  was  their  appearance  that  I  had, 
at  last,  a  confused  notion  of  having  become  disengaged 


28  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

from  the  entanglements  of  the  flesh,  and  fallen  in  with 
a  small  planetary  system  in  the  course  of  my  wanderings 
through  space.  The  centre  of  attraction  seemed  to  be 
a  table,  to  which  the  figures  were  constantly  bringing 
more  pies. 

The  letter  which  'Rasmus  had  directed  me  to  hand  to 
the  "  folks  "  was  read  with  interest,  being  the  one  I  had 
dispatched  from  Newtown,  a  week  or  two  before,  inform- 
ing them  as  to  the  time  of  my  arrival. 

Madeline  rendered  the  brief  and  business-like  epistle 
with  the  full  effect  of  her  peculiarly  thrilling  intonation, 
and  Grandma  listened  with  rapt  attention ;  but,  mean- 
while, Grandpa  Keeler  and  the  two  little  Keelers  found 
time  surreptitiously  to  dispose  of  nearly  a  whole  pie,  with 
the  serious  aspect  of  those  who  will  not  allow  a  mere 
fleeting  diversion  to  hinder  them  in  the  improvement  of 
a  rare  opportunity. 

Having  declined  to  partake  of  pie,  through  Grandma 
Keeler's  kind  interposition,  I  was  not  further  urged. 

"Thar',  poor  darlin',"  said  she;  "fix  her  up  a  good 
cup  o'  your  golden  seal,  pa,  and  she  shall  go  to  bed 
right  in  the  parlor  to-night,  seein'  as  we  didn't  get  the 
letter,  and  hain't  got  her  room  fixed  upstairs.  It's  all 
nice  and  warm,  and  thar',  darlin',  thar',  we're  r'al  good 
for  nussin'  folks  up." 

In  the  parlor,  I  saw  only  one  great,  delicious  object  — 
a  bed.  My  weary  brain  hardly  exaggerated  its  dimen- 
sions, which  could  not  have  failed  to  strike  with  aston- 
ishment even  the  most  indifferent  observer.  It  was 
long ;  it  was  broad  ;  it  was  deep  ;  and,  alas  !  it  was  high. 
I  disrobed  as  best  I  might,  and  stood  before  it,  gazing 
despairingly  up  at  its  snowy  summit. 


CAPE   COD    FOLKS. 


29 


Then,  remembering  my  experience  with  the  trunk,  I 
approached  at  one  extreme,  scaled  the  headboard,  fell 
over  into  an  absorbing  sea  of  feathers,  and,  at  that  very 
instant  it  seemed,  the  perplexing  nature  of  mortal  affairs 
ceased  to  burden  my  mind. 


30  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


CHAPTER   II. 

I   BLOW   THE   HORN. 

ORNING  dawned  on  my  mission  to  Wallen- 
camp.  My  wakening  was  not  an  enthusiastic 
one.  Slowly  my  bewildered  vision  became  fixed 
on  an  object  on  the  wall  opposite,  as  the  least  fantastic 
amid  a  group  of  objects.  It  was  a  sketch  in  water-colors 
of  a  woman  in  an  expansive  hoop  and  a  skirt  of  brilliant 
hue,  flounced  to  the  waist.  She  stood  with  a  singularly 
erect  and  dauntless  front,  over  a  grave  on  which  was 
written  "  Consort."  I  observed,  with  a  childlike  won- 
der, which  concealed  no  latent  vein  of  criticism,  the 
glowing  carmine  of  her  cheeks,  the  unmixed  blue  of  her 
pupilless  eyes,  from  a  point  exactly  in  the  centre  of  which 
a  geometric  row  of  tears  curved  to  the  earth.  A  weeping 
willow — somewhat  too  green,  alas!  —  drooped  with 
evident  reluctance  over  the  scene,  but  cast  no  shade  on 
its  contrasting  richness.  The  title  of  the  piece  was 
"Bereavement."  By  some  strange  means,  it  served  as 
the  pole-star  to  my  wandering  thoughts. 

As  I  gazed  and  wondered  my  Me  took  on  again  a 
definite  form  and  purpose.  The  events  of  the  preced- 
ing day  rose  in  gradual  succession  before  me,  and  I  pro- 
ceeded to  descend  from  the  heights  I  had  scaled  the 
night  before. 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  3! 

I  looked  at  my  watch.  It  was  eight  o'clock,  and 
school  should  begin  at  nine.  Yet  the  occasion  witnessed 
no  feverish  display  of  haste  on  my  part.  I  saw  that  the 
difficulties  which  I  was  destined  to  endure  in  the  per- 
formance of  my  toilet  that  morning  called  either  for 
philosophy  or  madness.  I  chose  philosophy. 

The  portion  of  the  Ark  surrounding  my  bed  was  cut 
up  into  little  recesses,  crannies,  nooks,  —  used,  presum- 
ably, for  storing  the  different  pairs  of  animals  in  the 
trying  events  which  preceded  the  Flood.  In  one  of 
these,  I  had  a  dim  recollection  of  having  secreted  my 
clothes,  in  the  disordered  condition  of  my  brain  the  night 
before.  So  I  cast  desultory  glances  about  me  for  these 
articles  on  the  way,  having  first  set  out  on  a  search  for  a 
looking-glass.  In  one  dark  recess  I  came  into  forcible 
contact  with  a  hanging-shelf  of  pies.  I  thought  what  a 
moment  that  would  have  been  for  Grandpa  Keeler  and 
the  little  Keelers  \  but  I  had  been  brought  up  on  hygienic, 
as  well  as  moral,  principles,  and  moved  away  without  a 
sigh.  In  another  sequestered  nook,  I  paused  with  a  sin- 
ful mixture  of  curiosity  and  delight,  before  a  Chinese 
idol  standing  alone  on  a  pedestal. 

There  was  a  strangeness  and  a  newness  about  things 
at  the  Ark  that  began  to  be  exhilarating.  I  was  reminded, 
in  a  negative  sort  of  way,  that  I  had  intended  to  begin 
my  work  on  this  new  day  with  a  prayer  to  the  true  God 
for  strength  and  assistance.  I  had  found  it  necessary  to 
make  this  resolve  because,  although  I  had  a  "  fixed  habit 
of  prayer,"  it  was  reserved  rather  for  occasions  of  special 
humiliation  than  resorted  to  as  an  everyday  indulgence  ; 
practically,  I  had  well  nigh  dispensed  with  it  altogether. 

However,  I  started  back  in  an  intently  serious  frame 


32  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

of  mind  to  find  my  couch.  I  lost  my  way,  and  stumbling 
against  a  swinging-door  which  opened  into  a  compara- 
tively spacious  apartment,  what  was  my  joy  to  discover 
my  trunk,  with  the  portmanteau  containing  my  keys  on 
top  of  it. 

I  then  proceeded  to  array  myself  with  an  absorbing 
ardor  and  devotion,  doing  my  hair  before  a  hand-glass 
with  rare  resignation  of  spirit.  I  began  to  feel  more  and 
more  like  an  incorporated  existence,  and  admitted  a 
sudden  eagerness  to  join  the  Keeler  family  at  break 
fast. 

I  had  no  hesitation  which  direction  to  take,  being 
guided  by  the  sound  of  voices  and  wafts  of  penetrating 
odors. 

It  was  a  fortunate  direction,  for  I  discovered  on  the 
way  my  lost  apparel  artfully  concealed  under  a  small 
melodeon,  and,  strangely  enough,  I  was  again  brought 
face  to  face  with  my  deserted  couch  and  the  weeping  lady 
on  the  wall.  She  held  me  a  moment  with  the  old  fasci- 
nation. As  I  put  up  my  glasses,  I  thought  I  detected 
in  her  face  a  hitherto  unnoticed  buoyancy  of  expression  : 
and  not  having  wholly  escaped  in  my  life  from  ideas  of 
a  worldly  nature,  I  reflected  that,  probably,  her  regretted 
consort  had  left  her  with  a  sufficent  number  of  thousands. 

In  this  same  connection,  I  was  reminded  that  I,  myself, 
had  started  out  on  an  independent  career,  and  wondered 
if  it  would  be  unkind  or  undutiful  in  me  to  start  a  private 
bank  account  of  my  own.  I  concluded  that  it  would 
not. 

When  I  entered  the  little  room  where  the  Keeler 
family  was  assembled  :  — 

"  Why,   here's    our    teacher  !  "  exclaimed    Grandma 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


33 


Keeler  in  accents  of  delight,  and  came  to  meet  me  with 
outstretched  arms.  "  We  couldn't  abear  to  wake  ye  up, 
dearie," -she  went  on,  "knowin'ye  was  so  tired  this 
mornin' ;  and  there's  plenty  o'  time  —  plenty  o'  time. 
My  Casindana  come  home  !  "  she  murmured,  with  a  smile 
and  a  tremble  of  the  lips,  and  a  far-away  look,  for  the 
instant,  in  her  gentle  eyes. 

In  fact,  the  whole  Keeler  family  received  me  with 
outstretched  arms.  If  I  had  been  a  long-lost  child,  or  a 
friend  known  and  loved  in  days  gone  by,  I  could  not 
have  been  more  cordially  and  enthusiastically  welcomed. 

The  best  chair  was  set  for  me  ;  glances  of  eager  and 
inquiring  interest  were  bent  upon  me. 

T  accepted  it  all  coolly,  though  not  without  a  certain 
air  of  affability,  too,  for  I  had  a  natural  desire  to  make 
myself  agreeable  to  people,  when  it  wasn't  too  much 
trouble ;  but  I  was  quite  firm,  at  this  time,  m  the  con- 
viction that  there  was  little  or  no  faith  to  be  put  in  human 
nature.  On  the  whole  I  was  much  entertained  and 
interestsd. 

The  two  children  came  to  climb  into  my  lap  ,  but  this 
part  of  the  acquaintance  did  not  progress  very  fast.  I 
thought  they  must  have  been  struck  by  something  in  my 
eye  (I  was  merely  wondering  abstractedly  if  their  heads 
were  not  out  of  proportion  to  the  rest  of  their  bodies),  for 
they  paused,  and  Mrs.  Philander  called  them  away 
sharply. 

Mrs.  Philander  was  a  frail  little  woman, — she  could 
not  have  been  over  thirty  or  thirty-two  years  old,  —  not 
pretty,  though  she  had  a  very  airy  and  graceful  way  of 
comporting  herself.  Her  eyes  were  large  and  dark,  with 
a  strange,  melancholy  gleam  in  them. 


34  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

I  never  knew  the  secrets  of  Mrs.  Philander's  heart 
She  had  often  a  tired,  tense  look  about  the  mouth,  and 
seemed  often  sorely  discontent ;  but  she  had  the  sweet- 
est voice  I  ever  heard.  She  was  familiarly  called  Mad- 
eline. 

Grandpa  or  Cap'n  Keeler  was  over  eighty  years  old. 
He  had  a  tall,  powerful  frame  —  at  least,  it  spoke  of 
great  power  in  the  past  —  and  I  thought  his  eye  must 
have  been  uncommonly  dark  and  keen  once. 

From  his  manly  irascibility  of  temperament,  and  his 
frequent  would-be  authoritativeness  of  tone,  one  might 
have  inferred,  from  a  passing  glimpse,  that  Grandpa 
Keeler  was  something  of  a  tyrant  in  the  family ;  but  I 
soon  learned  that  his  sway  was  of  an  extremely  vague  and 
illusory  nature.  . 

Grandma  Keeler  was  twenty  years  his  junior.  She 
had  not  married  him  until  she  was  herself  quite  advanced 
in  life,  and  had  had  one  husband. 

"  To  be  sure,"  I  heard  her  say  once,  "  I  ain't  quite  so 
far  advanced  as  husband,  but,  then,  it  don't  make  no 
difference  how  young  the  girl  is,  you  know." 

She  used  to  sit  down  and  laugh  —  one  of  Grandma's 
u  r'al  good  laughs  "  was  incompatible  with  a  standing 
posture  —  until  the  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks,  and 
she  had  to  wipe  them  off  with  the  corner  of  her  apron. 

She  had  been  thrown  from  a  wagon  once  —  how  often 
and  thrillinglyhave  I  heard  dear  Grandma  Keeler  relate 
the  particulars  of  that  accident !  She  had  broken  at  that 
time,  I  believe,  nearly  every  bone  in  her  body.  Long 
was  the  story  of  her  fall,  but  longer  still  the  tale  of  her 
recuperation.  In  due  course  of  time,  she  had  grown 
together  again ;  could  now  use  all  her  limbs,  and  was  in 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


35 


superabundant  flesh.  There  was  an  unnatural  sort  of 
stiffness  about  her  movements,  however,  her  way  of 
walking  particularly.  She  advanced  but  slowly,  and 
allowed  her  weight  to  fall  from  one  foot  to  another 
without  any  perceptible  bend  of  any  joint  whatever. 

I  have  stood  at  one  end  of  a  room  and  seen  Grandma 
Keeler  approaching  from  the  other,  when  it  seemed  as 
though  she  was  not  making  any  progress  at  all,  but 
merely  going  through  with  an  odd  sort  of  balancing  pro- 
cess in  order  to  maintain  her  equilibrium. 

As  for  Grandma  Keeler's  face,  there  was  enough  in  it 
to  make  several  ordinary  scrimped  faces.  Besides  large 
physical  proportions,  there  was  enough  in  it  of  generosity, 
enough  of  whole-heartedness,  a  world  of  sympathy. 
The  great  catastrophe  of  her  life  had  affected  the 
muscles  of  her  face  so  that  although  she  enunciated  her 
words  very  distinctly,  she  had  a  slow,  automatic  way  of 
moving  her  lips. 

The  room  where  the  breakfast-table  was  set  was  the 
same  that  I  had  entered  first,  on  my  arrival  at  Wallen- 
camp.  It  was  low  and  small,  but  capable,  as  I  learned 
afterward,  of  holding  any  amount  of  things  and  people 
without  ever  seeming  crowded.  There  was  a  cooking- 
stove  in  it,  and  many  other  articles  of  modest  worth,  so 
artlessly  scattered  about  as  to  present  a  scene  of  the 
wildest  and  richest  profusion. 

Art  was  not  entirely  wanting,  however.  There  was  a 
ray  of  it  on  the  wall  behind  the  stove-pipe,  the  compan- 
ion-piece to  "  Bereavement,"  entitled  "  Joy,"  and  repre- 
sented my  heroine  of  the  bed-chamber,  reclining  on  a 
rustic  bench  in  rather  an  unflounced  and  melancholy 
condition.  In  one  place  there  hung  a  yellow  family 


36  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

register,  which  was  kept  faithfully  supplied  from  week  to 
week  with  a  wreath  of  fresh  evergreens.  It  was  headed 
by  a  woodcut  representing  a  funeral,  Grandma  Keeler 
said  ;  but  Grandpa  Keeler  afterwards  informed  me,  aside, 
with  much  solemnity,  that  it  was  a  "  marriage  ceremony." 
Near  the  foot  of  the  list  of  births,  marriages  and  deaths, 
I  saw  "  Casindana  Keeler  ;  died,  aged  twenty." 

We  sat  down  at  the  table.  There  was  a  brief  alterca- 
tion between  Dinslow  and  Grace,  the  little  Keelers,  in 
which  impromptu  missiles,  such  as  spoons  and  knives 
and  small  tin-cups,  were  hurled  across  the  table  with 
unguided  wrath,  and  both  infants  yelled  furiously. 

Grandma  had  nearly  succeeded  in  quieting  them,  when 
Madeline  remarked  to  Grandpa  Keeler,  in  her  lively  and 
flippant  style :  — 

'  Come,  pa,  say  your  piece." 

"  How  am  I  going  to  say  anything  ? "  inquired 
Grandpa,  wrathfully,  "  in  such  a  bedlam  ?  " 

"Thar',  now,  thar' !  "  said  Grandma  Keeler,  in  her 
soothing  tone  ;  "  It's  all  quiet  now  and  time  we  was 
eatin'  breakfast,  so  ask  the  blessin',  pa,  and  don't  let's 
have  no  more  words  about  it." 

Whereupon  the  old  sea-captain  bowed  his  head,  and, 
with  a  decided  touch  of  asperity  still  lingering  in  his 
voice,  sped  through  the  lines  :  — 

"  God  bless  the  food  which  now  we  take ; 
May  it  do  us  good,  for  Jesus'  sake." 

"Now,  Dinnie,"  said  Grandma  Keeler,  beguilingly; 
but  it  was  not  until  after  much  coaxing  and  threatening, 
and  the  promise  of  a  spoonful  of  sugar  when  it  was  over, 
that  Dinslow  was  induced  to  solicit  the  same  blessing,  in 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


37 


the  same  poetical  terms,  and  with  an  expedition  still 
more  alarming. 

Then  Gracie,  with  tears  not  yet  dried  from  the  late 
conflict,  lifted  up  her  voice  in  a  rapture  of  miniature 
delight ;  "  Dinnie  says, '  gobble  the  food ' !  Dinnie  says, 
'gobble  the  food!'" 

"  Didn't  say  '  gobble  the  food  ! '  "  exclaimed  Dinslow, 
blacker  than  a  little  thunder-cloud. 

Madeline  anticipated  the  rising  storm,  and  stamped 
her  foot  and  cried  :  "  Will  you  be  still  ? " 

It  was  Grandma  Keeler  who  quietly  and  adroitly 
restored  peace  to  the  troubled  waters. 

The  Wallencampers,  including  the  Keeler  family,  were 
not  accustomed  to  speak  of  bread  as  a  compact  and 
staple  article  of  food,  but  rather  as  one  of  the  hard 
means  of  sustaining  existence  represented  by  the  term 
"  hunks."  At  the  table,  it  was  not  "  will  you  pass  me 
the  bread  ?"  but  —  and  I  shall  never  forget  the  sweet 
tunefulness  of  Madeline's  tone  in  this  connection  — 
"  Will  you  hand  me  a  hunk  ?  " 

The  hunks  were  an  unleavened  mixture  of  flour  and 
water,  about  the  size  and  consistency  of  an  ordinary 
laborer's  fist. 

I  was  impressed,  in  first  sitting  down  at  the  Keelers' 
table,  with  a  sense  of  my  own  ignorance  as  to  the  most 
familiar  details  of  life,  but  soon  learned  to  speak  confi- 
dently of"  hunks,"  and  "  fortune  stew,"  and  "  slit  herrin'," 
and  "  golden  seal." 

Fortune  stew  was  a  dish  of  small,  round  blue  potatoes, 
served  perfectly  whole  in  a  milk  gravy. 

I  cherish  the  memory  of  this  dish  as  sacred,  as  well  as 
that  of  all  the  other  dishes  that  ever  appeared  on  the 


38  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

Wallencamp  table.  They  were  the  products  of  faithful 
and  loving  hands  to  which  nature  had  given  a  peculiar 
direction,  perhaps,  but  which  strove  always  to  the  besl 
of  their  ability. 

Slit  herrin'  was  a  long-dried,  deep-salted  edition  of 
the  native  alewife,  a  fish  in  which  Wallencamp  abounded. 
They  hung  in  massive  tiers  from  the  roofs  of  the 
Wallencamp  barns.  The  herrin'  was  cut  open,  and 
without  having  been  submitted  to  any  mollifying  process 
whatever,  not  one  assuaging  touch  of  its  native  element, 
was  laid  flat  in  the  spider,  and  fried. 

I  saw  the  Keeler  family,  from  the  greatest  to  the 
least,  partake  of  this  arid  and  rasping  substance  unblink- 
ingly,  and  I  partook  also.  The  brine  rose  to  my  eyes 
and  coursed  its  way  down  my  cheeks,  and  Grandma 
Keeler  said  I  was  "  homesick,  poor  thing  ! " 

The  golden  seal,  a  "  remedy  for  toothache,  headache, 
sore-throat,  sprains,  etc.,  etc.,"  was  served  in  a  diluted 
state  with  milk  and  sugar,  and  taken  as  a  beverage. 
The  herrin'  had  destroyed  my  sense  of  taste ;  anything 
in  a  liquid  state  was  alike  delectable  to  me,  and  while  I 
drank,  I  had  a  sense  of  having  become  somehow 
mysteriously  connected  with  the  book  of  Revelations. 
"We  used  to  think,"  Grandma  proceeded  mildly  to 
elucidate,  "  that  it  had  ought  to  be  took  externally,  but 
husband,  he  was  painin'  around  one  time,  and  nothin' 
didn't  seem  to  do  him  no  good,  and  so  we  ventured 
some  of  it  inside  of  him,  and  he  didn't  complain  no 
more  for  a  great  while  afterwards."  I  appreciated  the 
hidden  meaning  of  these  words  when  I  saw  how  sparingly 
Grandpa  Keeler  partook  of  the  golden  seal.  "  So  then 
we  tried  some  of  it  ourselves,  and  ra'ly  begun  to  like  it, 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  39 

so  we've  got  into  the  habit  of  drinkin'  it  along  through 
the  winter,  it's  so  quietin',  and  may  not  be  no  special 
need  of  it,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  but  then,  it'c  allus  well 
enough  to  be  on  the  safe  side,  for  there's  no  knowin'," 
concluded  Grandma,  solemnly,  "  what  disease  may  be  a 
growin'  up  inside  of  you." 

"My  brother  invented  on't,"  said  Grandpa  Keeler, 
looking  up  at  me  from  under  his  shaggy  eyebrows  with 
questionable  pride.  He  went  on  more  glowingly,  how- 
ever ;  "  There's  a  picter  of  my  brother  on  every  bottle, 
teacher."  (Madeline  immediately  ran  from  her  chair, 
went  into  an  adjoining  room,  and  brought  out  a  bottle  to 
show  me.)  "  Ye  see,  he  used  to  wear  them  air  long 
ringlets,  though  he  was  a  powerful  man,  John  was  ;  but 
his  hair  curled  as  pretty  as  a  girl's.  Oh,  he  was  a  great 
dandy,  John  was ;  a  great  dandy."  Grandpa  Keeler 
straightened  himself  up  and  his  eyes  brightened  percep- 
tibly. 

"  Never  wore  nothin'  but  the  finest  broadcloth  ;  why, 
there's  a  pair  of  black  broadcloth  pants  o'  his'n  that 
you'll  see,  come  Sunday,  teacher ! " 

"  Wall,  thar',  now,  pa,"  said  Grandma  Keeler,  reprov- 
ingly ;  "  I  wouldn't  tell  everything." 

"  Le'  me  see,"  continued  Grandpa ;  "  I  had  eight 
brothers,  teacher,  yis,  yis,  there  was  nine  boys  in  all," 
nodding  his  head  emphatically,  and  proceeding  to  count 
on  his  fingers. 

Grandma  Keeler  laid  her  knife  and  fork  aside,  as 
though  she  felt  that  the  occasion  was  an  important  one, 
and  that  she  had  a  grave  duty  to  perform  in  regard  to  it. 

"  Thar'  was  Philemon,  he  comes  first,  that  makes  one, 
don't  it  ?  and  there  was  Doddridge " 


40  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

"  Sure  he  comes  next,  pa  ? "  interposed  Grandma  ; 
"for  now  you're  namin'  of  em,  you  might  as  well  git  'em 
right." 

"Yis,  yis,  ma,"  replied  the  old  man,  hastily.  "Then 
there  was  Winfield  and  John,  they're  all  dead  now,  and 
Bartholomew,  he  was  first  mate  in  a  sailin'  vessel ;  fine 
man,  Bartholomew  was,  fine  man;  he 

"  Wall,  thar'  now,"  said  Grandma  ;  "  you'll  never  git 
through  namin'  on  'em,  pa,  if  you  stop  to  talk  about 
'em." 

"Yis,  yis,"  continued  Grandpa,  hopelessly  confused, 
and  showing  dark  symptoms  of  smouldering  wrath ; 
"  there  was  Bartholomew.  That  makes  a,  —  le'  me  see, 
Bartholomew, " 

"  How  many  Bartholomews  was  there  ? "  inquired 
Grandma,  with  pitiless  coolness  of  demeanor. 

"  Thar',  now,  ma,  ye've  put  me  all  out !  "  cried  Grand- 
pa, taking  refuge  in  loud  and  desperate  reproach  ;  "  I 
was  gettin'  along  first-rate  ;  why  couldn't  ye  a  kept  still 
and  let  me  reckoned  'em  through  ? " 

"  Yer  musn't  blame  me,  pa,  'cause  yer  can't  carry 
yer  own  brothers  in  yer  head."  There  was  a  touch  of 
gentle  reproach  in  Grandma's  calm  voice.  "  Why, 
there  was  my  mother's  cousin  'Statia,  that  was  only 
second  cousin  to  me,  and  no  relation  at  all,  on  my 
father's  side,  and  she  had  thirteen  children,  three  of  'em 
was  twins  and  one  of  'em  was  thrins,  and  I  could  name 
'em  all  through,  and  tell  you  what  year  they  was  born, 
and  what  day,  and  who  vaccinated  'em.  There  was 
Amelia  Day,  she  was  born  April  ninth,  eighteen  hundred 
and  seventeen,  Doctor  Sweet  vaccinated  her,  and  it  took 
in  five  days."  And  so  on  Grandma  went  through  the 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  41 

entire  list,  gradually  going  more  and  more  into  particu- 
lars, but  always  coming  out  strong  on  the  main  facts. 

The  effect  could  not  have  failed  to  deepen  in  Grand- 
pa's bosom  a  mortifying  sense  of  his  own  incompetency. 

When  I  got  up  from  the  Keelers'  breakfast  table 
there  was  something  choking  me  besides  the  herrin'  and 
golden  seal,  and  it  was  not  homesickness,  either ;  but 
as  I  stepped  out  of  Mrs.  Philander's  low  door  into  the 
light  and  air,  all  lesser  impulses  were  forgotten  in  a  glow 
and  thrill  of  exultation.  I  wondered  if  that  far,  intense 
blue  was  the  natural  color  of  the  Cape  Cod  sky  in 
winter,  and  if  its  January  sun  always  showered  down 
such  rich  and  golden  beams.  There  was  no  snow  on 
the  ground  ;  the  fields  presented  an  almost  spring-like 
aspect,  in  contrast  with  the  swarthy  green  of  the  cedars. 
The  river  ran  sparkling  in  summer-fashion  at  the  foot 
of  "  Eagle  Hill."  From  the  bay,  the  sea  air  came  up 
fresh  and  strong.  I  drank  it  with  deep  inspirations.  At 
that  moment  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  indeed  been 
born  to  perform  a  mission.  It  was  so  hopeful  to  turn 
over  an  entire  fresh  leaf  in  the  book  of  life,  and  I  was 
resolved  to  do  it  heroically,  at  any  cost.  I  reflected,  not 
without  a  shade  of  annoyance,  that  I  had  forgotten  to  say 
my  prayers,  after  all.  At  the  same  time  I  had  a  sort  of 
conviction  that  it  wasn't  so  unfortunate  a  remissness  on 
my  part  as  it  would  have  been  for  some  less  qualified  by 
nature  to  take  care  of  themselves. 

I  discovered  the  school-house  at  the  end  of  the  lane. 
The  general  air  of  the  Wallencamp  houses  was  stranded 
and  unsettled,  as  though,  detained  in  their  present 
position  for  some  brief  and  restless  season,  they  dreamed 
ever  of  unknown  voyages  yet  to  be  made  on  the  sea  of 


42  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

life.  They  were  very  poor,  very  old.  Some  of  them 
were  painted  red  in  front,  some  of  them  had  only  a  red 
door,  being  otherwise  quite  brown  and  unadorned.  There 
was  one  exception,  —  Emily  Gaskell's  —  that  stood  on 
the  hill,  and  was  painted  all  over  and  had  green  blinds. 

I  heard  a  mighty  rushing  sound  mingled  with  whoops 
and  yells  and  the  terrible  clamp  of  running  feet,  and 
was  made  aware  that  a  detachment  from  my  flock  was 
coming  up  the  lane  to  meet  me. 

A  girl,  taller  than  I,  with  stooping  shoulders  and  a 
piquant  and  good-natured  cast  of  features,  seized  my 
hand  and  swung  it  in  childish  and  confiding  fashion. 
She  had  warts.  I  wondered,  uneasily,  if  they  would  be 
contagious  through  my  gloves. 

I  was  struck  with  the  uncommon  beauty  of  one  sturdy 
little  fellow.  He  was  barefooted  (on  Cape  Cod,  in 
January),  and  ragged  enough  to  have  satisfied  the  most 
crazy  devotee  of  the  picturesque.  His  shapely  head  was 
set  on  his  shoulders  in  an  exceedingly  high-bred  way, 
while  its  bad  archangel  effect  was  intensified  by  rings  01 
curling  black  hair  and  great,  seductive  black  eyes. 

The  children  walked  back,  in  comparative  quiet, 
toward  the  school-house,  except  this  boy.  To  him  care 
was  evidently  a  thing  unknown.  He  managed,  while 
keeping  the  distance  undiminished  between  himself  and 
me,  to  perform  a  great  variety  of  antics,  in  which,  by 
way  of  an  occasional  relief,  his  head  was  seen  to  rise 
above  his  heels. 

Emily's  wash  had  been  left  out  to  dry  during  the 
night.  The  wind  had  torn  various  articles  from  the  line 
and  carried  them  down  in  the  direction  of  the  lane 
fence. 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  43 

My  gymnastic-performing  imp  vanished  through  the 
bars.  In  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time  he  reappeared, 
clothed  —  but,  alas !  I  cannot  tell  how  the  imp  was 
clothed,  except  to  say  that  Emily  being  a  tall  woman 
and  the  imp  but  a  well-grown  boy  of  ten,  the  effect  was 
strangely  voluminous  and  oriental. 

This  part  of  the  lane  was  marked  by  some  insignificant 
though  very  abrupt  depressions  and  elevations  of  the 
surface.  Occasionally  he  of  the  floating  apparel  was 
lost  to  sight ;  then  he  would  appear  all  glorious  on  some 
small  height,  while  the  mind  was  compelled  to  revert 
irreverently  to  the  picture  of  Moses  on  Mount  Pisgah. 
He  was  the  personification  of  impudence,  withal,  looking 
back  and  showing  his  teeth  in  superlative  appreciation 
of  his  own  sinfulness.  He  descended,  and  I  looked  to 
see  him  arise  again,  but  I  saw  him  no  more. 

I  had  a  faint  and  fleeting  vision,  afterwards,  of  an 
apostolic  figure  flying  back  across  the  fields.  It  was  so 
indistinct  as  to  remain  only  among  the  ephemera  of  my 
fancy. 

In  a  fork  of  the  roads,  opposite  the  school-house, 
stood  a  house  with  a  red  door.  It  was  loaded,  in 
summer,  with  honeysuckle  vines.  Aunt  Lobelia  sat 
always  at  the  window.  Sometimes  she  had  the  asthma 
and  sometimes  she  sang.  This  morning  her  favorite 
refrain  from  the  Moody  and  Sankey  Hymnal  was  wafted 
in  loud  accents  up  the  lane  :  — 

"  Dar'  to  be  a  Uanyell ! 
Dar'  to  be  a  Danyell ! 
Dar'  to  make  it  known !  " 

As  I  entered  the  school-house,  the  inspiring  strains 
still  followed  me. 


44 


CAPE  COD   FOLKS. 


There  was  a  large  Franklin  stove  within,  which  ex- 
hibited the  most  enormous  draught  power,  emitting 
sparks  and  roaring  in  a  manner  frightful  to  contem- 
plate. 

Aunt  Patty,  who  acted  the  part  of  janitress  of  the 
school-house  at  night  and  morning,  had  written  on 
the  blackboard  in  a  large  admonitory  hand,  "  No 
spitting  on  this  floor,  you  ninnies  !  " 

The  bench,  containing  the  water-pail,  occupied  the 
most  central  position  in  the  room.  At  one  side  of  the 
bench  hung  a  long-handled  tin  dipper;  on  the  other, 
another  tin  instrument,  resembling  an  ear-trumpet,  pro- 
foundly exaggerated  in  size. 

"That's  what  you've  got  to  blow  to  call  us  in," 
exclaimed  a  small  child,  with  anticipative  enlivenment. 

I  went  to  the  door  with  the  instrument. 

"  Bar'  to  be  a  Danyell ! 
Dar'  to  make  it  known." 

The  stirring  measures  came  across  from  Aunt  Lobelia's 
window.  Then  the  singer  paused. 

There  were  other  faces  at  other  windows.  The  coun- 
tenances of  the  boys  and  girls  gathered  about  the  door 
were  ominously  expressive.  I  lifted  the  horn  to  my  lips. 
I  blew  upon  it  what  was  intended  for  a  cheerful  and 
exuberant  call  to  duty,  but  to  my  chagrin  it  emitted  no 
sound  whatever.  I  attempted  a  gentle,  soul-stirring 
strain  ;  it  was  as  silent  as  the  grave.  I  seized  it  with  both 
hands,  and,  oblivious  to  the  hopeful  derision  gathering 
on  the  faces  of  those  about  me,  I  breathed  into  it  all 
the  despair  and  anguish  of  my  expiring  breath.  It 
gave  forth  a  hollow,  soulless,  and  lugubrious  squeak, 


CAPE   COD   FOLKS.  45 

utterly  out  of  proportion  to  the  vital  force  expended, 
yet  I  felt  that  I  had  triumphed,  and  detected  a  new 
expression  of  awe  and  admiration  on  the  faces  of  my 
flock. 

"  I  don't  see  how  she  done  it,"  I  heard  one  freckled- 
faced  boy  exclaim,  confidingly  to  another  ;  "  with  a  hull 
button  in  thar' !  " 

"  Who  put  the  button  in  the  horn  ?  "  I  inquired  of 
the  youngster  afterwards,  quite  in  a  pleasant  tone,  and 
with  a  smile  on  which  I  had  learned  to  depend  for  a 
particularly  delusive  effect ;  at  the  same  time  I  put  up 
my  glasses  to  impress  him  with  a  sense  of  awe. 

"  Simmy  B.,"  he  answered. 

"  And  which  is  Simmy  B.? "  I  questioned,  glancing 
about  the  school-room. 

"Oh,  he  ain't  comin'  in,"  gasped  my  informer;  "he 
run  over  cross-lots  with  Emily's  clo's  on." 

I  had  planned  not  to  confine  my  pupils  to  the  ordinary 
method  of  imbibing  knowledge  through  the  medium  of 
text-books,  but  by  means  of  lectures,  which  should  be 
interspersed  with  lively  anecdotes  and  rich  with  the 
fruitful  products  of  my  own  experience,  to  teach  them. 

My  first  lecture  was,  quite  appropriately,  on  the  duty 
of  close  application  and  faithful  persistence  in  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge,  depicting  the  results  that 
would  inevitably  accrue  from  the  observance  of  such  a 
course,  and  here,  glowing  and  dazzled  by  my  theme,  I 
even  secretly  regretted  that  modesty  forbade  me  to 
recommend  to  my  pupils,  as  a  forcible  illustration,  one 
who  occupied  so  conspicuous  a  position  before  them. 

My  new  method  of  instruction,  though  not  appreciated, 
perhaps,  in  its  intrinsic  design,  was  received,  I  could 
not  but  observe,  with  the  most  unbounded  favor. 


46  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

After  the  first  open-mouthed  surprise  had  passed  away 
from  the  countenances  of  my  audience,  I  was  loudly 
importuned  on  all  sides  for  water.  I  was  myself  ex- 
travagantly thirsty.  I  requested  all  those  who  had  "  slit 
herrin'  "  for  breakfast  to  raise  their  hands. 

Every  hand  was  raised. 

I  gravely  inquired  if  slit  herrin'  formed  an  ordinary 
or  accustomed  repast  in  Wallencamp,  and  was  unani- 
mously assured  in  the  affirmative. 

After  dwelling  briefly  on  the  gratitude  that  should  fill 
our  hearts  in  view  of  the  unnumbered  blessings  of  Provi- 
dence, I  inaugurated  a  system  by  which  a  pail  of  fresh 
water  was  to  be  drawn  from  one  of  the  neighboring  wells, 
and  impartially  distributed  among  the  occupants  of  the 
school-room,  once  during  each  successive  hour  of  the  day. 
The  water  was  to  be  passed  about  in  the  tin  dipper,  in 
an  orderly  manner,  by  some  member  of  the  flock, 
properly  appointed  to  that  office,  either  on  account  of 
general  excellence  or  some  particular  mark  of  good 
behavior;  though  I  afterwards  found  it  advisable 
not  to  insist  on  any  qualifications  of  this  sort,  but  to 
elect  the  water-bearers  merely  according  to  their  respect- 
ive rank  in  age.  This  really  proved  to  be  one  of  the  most 
lively  and  interesting  exercises  of  the  school,  was  always 
cheerfully  undertaken,  executed  in  the  most  complete  and 
faithful  manner,  and  never  on  any  account  forgotten  or 
omitted. 

I  drank,  and  continued  my  lecture,  but  the  first  look 
of  attractive  surprise  never  came  back  to  the  faces  of 
my  audience.  They  sought  diversion  in  a  variety  of 
ways,  acquitting  themselves  throughout  with  a  commend- 
able degree  of  patience  until  they  found  it  necessary 
gently  to  admonish  me  that  it  was  time  for  recess. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  47 

After  recess,  as  the  result  of  deep  meditation,  in  which 
£  had  concluded  that  the  mind  of  the  Wallencamp  youth 
was  not  yet  prepared  for  the  introduction  of  new  and 
advanced  methods,  I  examined  my  pupils  preparatory 
to  giving  them  lessons  and  arranging  them  in  classes,  in 
the  ordinary  way.  I  found  that  they  could  not  read, 
but  they  could  write  in  a  truly  fluent  and  unconventional 
style  ;  they  could  not  commit  prosaical  facts  to  memory, 
but  they  could  sing  songs  containing  any  number  of 
irrelevant  stanzas.  They  could  not"cipher,"but  they  had 
witty  and  salient  answers  ready  for  any  emergency. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  particular  distinction  among 
them  in  regard  to  the  degree  of  literary  attainment,  so  I 
arranged  them  in  classes,  with  an  eye  mainly  to  the  novel 
and  picturesque  in  appearance. 

They  were  a  little  disappointed  at  the  turn  in  affairs, 
having  evidently  anticipated  much  from  the  continuation 
of  the  lecture  system,  yet  they  were  disposed  to  look 
forward  to  school-life,  in  any  case,  as  not  without  its 
ameliorating  conditions. 


48  CAPE  COD   FOLKS. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE  BEAUX  OF  WALLENCAMP  PERFORM  A  GRAVE  DUTY. 

E  have  our  r'al,  good,  comfortin'  meal  at  night," 
Grandma  Keeler  had  said,  and  the  thought 
was  uppermost  in  my  mind  at  the  close  of  my 
first  day's  labor  in  Wallencamp.  I  had  taken  a  walk  to 
the  beach ;  a  strong  east  wind  had  come  up,  and  the 
surf  was  rolling  in  magnificently ;  a  wild  scene,  from  a 
wild  shore,  more  awful  then,  in  the  gathering  gloom. 
The  long  rays  of  light  streaming  out  of  the  windows  of 
the  Ark  guided  me  back  across  the  fields.  Within,  all 
was  warmth  and  cheer  and  festive  expectation.  Grandma 
Keeler  was  in  such  spirits ;  a  wave  of  mirthful  inspiration 
would  strike  her,  she  would  sink  into  a  chair,  the  tears 
would  roll  down  her  cheeks,  and  she  would  shake  with 
irrepressible  laughter.  It  was  in  one  of  her  serious 
moments  that  she  said  to  me  :  — 

"  Thar',  teacher,  I  actually  believe  that  I  ain't  made 
you  acquainted  with  my  two  tea-kettles."  They  stood 
side  by  side  on  the  stove,  one  very  tall  and  lean,  the 
other  very  short  and  plump.  "  This  'ere,"  said  Grandma, 
pointing  to  the  short  one  ;  "  is  Rachel,  and  this  'ere," 
pointing  to  the  tall  one,  "is  Abigail,  and  Abigail's  a 
graceful  creetur'  to  be  sure,"  Grandma  reflected 
admiringly ;  "  but  then  Rachel  has  the  most  powerful 
delivery  1 " 


THROUGH   THE  CEDAR   ROAD  TO  THE   BEACH.      Page  48 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


49 


I  was  thus  enabled  to  understand  the  allusions  I  had 
already  heard  to  Rachel's  being  "  dry,"  or  Abigail's 
being  as  "  full  as  a  tick,"  or  vice  versa. 

The  table  was  neatly  spread  with  a  white  cloth  ;  there 
was  an  empty  bowl  and  a  spoon  at  each  individual's  place. 
In  the  centre  of  the  table  stood  a  pitcher  of  milk  and  a 
bowl  of  sugar.  Grandpa  Keeler  having  asked  the  bless- 
ing after  the  approved  manner  of  the  morning,  there 
was  a  general  uprising  and  moving,  bowl  in  hand,  towards 
the  cauldron  of  hulled  corn  on  the  stove.  This  was 
lively,  and  there  was  a  pleasurable  excitement  about 
skimming  the  swollen  kernels  of  corn  out  of  the  boiling, 
seething  liquid  in  which  they  were  immersed.  Eaten 
afterwards  with  milk  and  sagar  and  a  little  salt,  the  com- 
pound became  possessed  of  a  truly  "  comforting " 
nature. 

I  stood,  for  the  second  time,  over  the  kettle  with  my 
eye-glasses  securely  adjusted,  very  earnestly  and  thought- 
fully occupied  in  wielding  the  skimmer,  when  the  door 
of  the  Ark  suddenly  opened  and  a  mischievously 
smiling  young  man  appeared  on  the  threshold.  He  was 
not  a  Wallencamper,  I  saw  at  a  glance.  There  was 
about  him  an  unmistakable  air  of  the  great  world.  He 
was  fashionably  dressed  and  rather  good-looking,  with  a 
short  upper  lip  and  a  decided  tinge  of  red  in  his  hair. 
He  stood  staring  at  me  with  such  manifest  appreciation 
of  the  situation  in  his  laughing  eyes,  that  I  felt  a  barba- 
rous impulse  to  throw  the  slammer  of  hot  corn  at  him. 
It  was  as  though  some  flimsy  product  of  an  advanced 
civilization  had  come  in  to  sneer  at  the  sacred  customs 
of  antiquity. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  the  intruder  began,  addressing 


So  CAPE    COD   FOLKS. 

the  Keeler  family  with  exceeding  urbanity  of  voice  and 
manner ;  "  I  fear  that  I  have  happened  in  rather  inop- 
portunely, but  I  dared  not  of  course  transgress  our 
happy  Arcadian  laws  by  knocking  at  the  door." 

"  Oh,  Lordy,  yis,  yis,  and  the  fewer  words  the  better. 
You  know  our  ways  by  this  time,  fisherman,"  exclaimed 
Grandpa  Keeler.  "  Come  in  !  come  in  !  Nobody  that 
calls  me  friend  need  knock  at  my  door." 

"  Come  in  !  come  in,  fisherman  !  Won't  you  set, 
fisherman?"  hospitably  chimed  in  Grandma  Keeler. 

"  Ah,  thank  you  !  may  I  consider  your  kind  invitation 
deferred,  merely,"  said  the  fisherman,  suavely,  "and 
excuse  me  if  I  introduce  a  little  matter  of  business  with 
the  Captain.  We  carelessly  left  our  oars  on  the  banks 
yesterday,  Captain  Keeler,  they  were  washed  off,  I  have 
ordered  some  more,  but  can't  get  them  by  to-morrow. 
I  hear  you  have  a  pair  laid  by,  I  should  like  to  pur- 
chase." 

"What,  is  it  the  old  oars  ye  want?"  interrupted 
Grandpa,  "  why,  Lord  a  massy  !  you  know  whar'  they  be, 
fisherman,  alongside  that  old  pile  o'  rubbish  on  hither 
side  o'  the  barn,  and  don't  talk  about  purchasin'  —  take 
'em  and  keep  'em  as  long  as  ye  want,  they  ain't  no 
account  to  me  now." 

"I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Captain,"  the  fisher- 
man said,  "  I  am  very  sorry  to  have  interrupted  this  — 
a " 

"  Why,  no  interruption,  I'm  sure,"  said  Grandma 
Keeler,  good-naturedly,  "we've  kep'  right  along  eatin'." 

"Want  a  lantern  to  look  for  'em  eh?"  inquired 
Grandpa  Keeler,  for  the  fisherman  lingered,  hesitating, 
on  the  threshold. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  51 

"  This  is  our  teacher,  fisherman,"  said  Grandma,  in 
her  gentle,  tranquillizing  tones,  "  and  this  'ere  is  one  of 
Emily's  fishermen,  teacher,  and  may  the  Lord  bless  ye 
in  yer  acquaintance,"  she  added  with  simple  fervor. 

The  fisherman  saluted  me  with  a  bow  which  reflected 
great  credit  on  his  former  dancing-master.  He  mur- 
mured the  polite  formula  in  a  low  tone,  at  the  same  time 
shooting  another  covertly  laughing  glance  at  me  out  of 
his  eyes.  As  the  door  closed  behind  him,  "  Ah,  that's 
a  sleek  devil !  "  said  Grandpa  Keeler,  giving  me  a  mean- 
ing glance  from  under  his  shaggy  eyebrows. 

"  Wall,  thar'  now,  pa,  I  wouldn't  blaspheme,  not  if  I'd 
made  the  professions  you  have,"  said  Grandma,  with 
grave  reproval. 

"  A  sleek  dog,"  continued  Grandpa  Keeler ;  "  tongue 
as  smooth  as  butter,  all  '  how  d'  yer  do ! '  and  '  how  d' 
yer  do  ! '  but  I  don't  trust  them  fishermen  much,  myself, 
teacher." 

"  Who  are  the  fishermen  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"They  board  up  to  Emily's,"  said  Grandma.  "  They 
come  from  Providence  and  around,  and  they  stay  here, 
off  and  on,  a  week  or  two  to  a  time,  along  through  the  win- 
ter, some  of  'em.  They  fish  pickerel  on  the  river,  and 
sometimes  they're  blue-fishin'  out  in  the  bay,  and  quite 
generally  they're  just  kitin'  round  as  young  men  will,  I 
suppose.  Sometimes  they  have  vittles  sent  to  'em  and 
Emily  she  cooks  for  'em.'" 

"  Why,  they're  off  on  a  spree,  that's  all,"  said  Grandpa 
Keeler,  comprehensively,  giving  me  another  significant 
glance  ;  "  they're  off  on  a  spree,  and  ye  see  they  think 
this  'ere  is  jest  a  right  fur  enough  out  the  way  place  for 
'em.  This  'ere  red-haired  one  that  was  in  here  this 


52  CAPE  COD   FOLKS. 

evenin',  Rollin  his  name  is,  he's  a  dreadful  rich  one,  I 
suppose,  dreadful  rich !  I've  heered  all  about  him. 
He's  an  old  bachelder,  I  reckon,  that  is,  he  keeps  mighty 
spruce,  but  I  reckon  he's  hard  on  to  thirty.  Emily's 
got  a  cousin  that  works  for  some  o'  them  big  folks  down 
to  Providence,  and  she's  heered  all  about  him,  this  red- 
haired  one,  and  how  he  keeps  a  big  house  down  thar', 
and  sarvants  enough,  massy  !  and  half  the  time  he's 
hither  and  yon,  and  a  throwin'  out  money  like  water. 
His  father  and  mother  they're  dead,  so  I've  heered,  and 
he  used  to  have  gardeens  over  him,  but  he  haint  kep'  no 
gardeens  lately,  I  reckon,"  said  Grandpa,  with  grim 
facetiousness. 

"  Why,  he's  been  a  waitin'  on  Weir's  daughter,  down 
here  —  Becky.  She  goes  to  school  to  you,  teacher,"  the 
old  man  added,  presently,  brightening  with  a  senile  pre- 
dilection for  gossip. 

"  Becky's  a  very  sensible  girl,"  said  Grandma  Keeler ; 
"  and  don't  cast  no  sheep's  eyes,  but  goes  right  along 
and  minds  her  own  business.  Becky  plays  very  purty  on 
the  music,  too." 

"  Yes.  But  you  know  Dave  Rollin  wouldn't  any  more 
think  of  marrying  Becky  Weir  than  he  would  of  marrying 
me,"  cried  Mrs.  Philander.  "  Of  all  the  fishermen  that 
have  come  down  here  not  one  of  them  ever  married  in 
Wallencamp.  He's  just  trifling,  and  she  thinks  he's  in 
real  earnest ;  anybody  can  see  that.  You've  only  to 
mention  his  name  to  see  her  flush  up  as  red  as  a  rose. 
I  tell  you  this  is  a  strange  world,"  Madeline  snapped 
out  sharply  ;  "  and  Dave  Rollin,  I  suppose,  is  one  of  the 
gentlemen." 

"We  ain't  no  right  to  say  but  what  he's  honest,"  said 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


53 


Grandma  Keeler  ;  "  Becky  she's  honest  herself,  and  she 
takes  it  in  other  folks.  She's  more  quiet  than  some  of 
our  girls  be,  and  higher  notions,  and  she's  young  and 
haint  never  been  away  nowhere,  and  no  wonder  if  he 
waits  on  her  she  should  take  a  kind  o'  fancy  to  him." 

"  You  know,  ma,"  continued  Madeline,  "  that  Dave 
Rollin  would  never  take  her  home  among  his  folks, 
never  ;  and  if  I  was  Becky's  mother  I'd  shut  the  door  in 
his  face  before  I'd  ever  have  him  fooling  around  my 
house,  and  she  should  never  stir  out  of  the  house  with 
him,  never ! " 

"  I  don't  suppose  there's  much  use  in  talking  to  the 
girl,"  said  Grandma  ;  "  Emily  was  in  here  the  other  day, 
and  Becky,  she  happened  to  come  in  the  same  time,  and 
I  didn't  see  no  use  in  Emily's  speaking  up  in  the  way 
she  did ;  for,  says  she,  '  What  do  you  have  that  Dave 
Rollin  flirtin'  around  you  for,  Beck  ?  What  do  you 
suppose  he  wants  o'  you  'cept  to  amuse  himself  a  little 
when  he  ain't  nothin'  better  to  do,  and  then  go  off  and 
forgit  he's  seen  ye ! '  And  Becky  didn't  say  nothin', 
but  she  give  Emily  a  dreadful  long,  quiet  kind  of  a  look 
out  of  her  eyes." 

"  She  hasn't  lost  quite  all  of  Weir's  temper  since  she's" 
been  seeking  religion,"  said  Madeline,  in  a  strangely 
light  and  vivacious  tone.  Grandma  and  Grandpa  Keeler, 
by  the  way,  were  good  Methodists,  but  Madeline  was 
not  a  "  professor." 

"  Seeking  religion,  eh  ? "  inquired  Grandpa  Keeler. 
"  She'd  better  let  Dave  Rollin  alone,  then,"  he  added. 

"  Let  us  hope  that  we  shall  all  on  us  be  brought  to  a 
better  state  of  mind,"  concluded  Grandma  Keeler,  with 
solemn  pertinency. 


54 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


Before  the  meal  was  finished  and  the  table  cleared 
away,  the  latch  of  the  Ark  had  been  often  lifted. 

On  all  occasions,  afterwards,  there  was  a  marked  and 
cheerful  variety  in  the  nature  of  the  droppers-in  at  the 
Ark  —  the  children  and  all  the  young  men  and  maidens 
making  their  appearance  with  a  promiscuousness  which 
precluded  the  possibility  of  design  —  but  to-night  the 
Wallencamp  mind  had  evidently  aimed  at  some  great 
system  of  conventionality,  and  had  been  eminently 
successful  in  evolving  a  plan. 

The  callers  were  young  men  exclusively  —  the  native 
youth  of  Wallencamp.  Their  blowzy,  well-favored  faces, 
which  ever  afterward  appeared  to  beam  with  good  nature, 
to-night  expressed  a  sense  of  some  grave  affliction 
heroically  to  be  endured. 

Their  best  clothes,  it  was  obvious,  had  been  purchased 
by  them  "  ready-made,"  and  had  been  designed, 
originally,  for  the  sons  of  a  less  stalwart  community. 
The  young  men  were  especially  pinched  as  to  their 
expansive  chests,  the  broadcloth  coming  much  too  short 
at  this  point,  and  shrugging  up  oddly  enough  at  the 
shoulders,  while  the  phenomenally  slick  arrangement 
of  their  hair  was  calculated  to  produce  a  depressing 
effect  on  the  mind  of  the  observer. 

As  they  came  in  one  by  one,  in  a  matter  of  fact  way, 
and  Grandma  Keeler  announced  hopefully  to  each  in 
turn  —  "  and  this  is  our  teacher  !  "  they  accepted  the 
fact  with  no  more  flattering  sign  than  that  of  a  dumb 
and  helpless  resignation  to  the  inevitable.  They  seated 
themselves  about  the  room  in  punctilious  order,  assuming 
positions  painfully  suggestive  of  a  conscientious  disregard 
for  ease,  and  seemed  to  draw  some  silent  support  and 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  55 

sympathy  out  of  their  hats,  which  they  caressed  with 
lingering  affection  touching  to  behold. 

Grandma  beckoned  me  aside  into  the  pantry  which 
immediately  adjoined  the  kitchen,  and  informed  me  in 
one  of  her  reverberating  whispers,  that  I  "  mustn't  mind 
the  boys  being  slicked  up,  for  they'd  sorter  dropped  in 
to  make  my  acquaintance,  and,  if  we  wanted  the  pop- 
corn, it  was  in  a  bag  down  under  where  the  almanac 
hung,  to  the  furtherest  corner  of  the  wood-box." 

I  pondered  these  mysterious  injunctions  in  silence, 
and  realizing  the  fact  that  the  Wallencamp  beaux  had 
appeared  in  a  body  for  the  express  purpose  of  making 
my  acquaintance,  I  essayed  to  show  my  appreciation  of 
this  amiable  design  by  an  attempt  to  engage  them  in  con- 
versation. My  various  efforts  in  this  line  proved  alike 
futile,  and  they  seemed  but  to  grow  impressed  with  a 
deeper  sense  of  misery. 

I  had  a  vague  intention  of  going  in  search  of  the  pop- 
corn, when,  to  my  sudden  dismay,  Grandma  Keeler 
and  Madeline,  who  had  been  noiselessly  clearing  off  the 
table,  emerged  from  a  brief  consultation  in  the  pantry, 
bearing  with  them  a  lighted  candle,  and  having  given 
Grandpa  Keeler  a  nod  of  unmistakable  force  and 
significance,  disappeared  through  the  door  which  led 
into  that  indefinite  extension  of  the  Ark  beyond. 

But  Grandpa  Keeler  remained  wilfully  indifferent  to 
these  broadly  insinuating  tactics.  He  fancied,  poor, 
deluded  old  man,  that  here  was  a  choice  opportunity  to 
tell  a  tale  of  the  seas  after  a  fashion  dear  to  his  own 
heart,  unshackled  by  the  restraints  of  family  surveillance. 

A  singularly  childlike  and  unapprehensive  smile 
played  across  his  features.  He  drew  his  chair  up  closer 


56  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

to  the  stove  and  began  :  "  Jest  after  I  was  a  roundin' 
Cape  Horn  the  fourth  time,  I  believe, — yis,  yis,  le'me 
see  —  twenty  times  I've  rounded  the  Horn,  —  wall,  this 
ere,  I  reckon,  was  somewhere  nigh  about  the  fourth 
time." 

Scarcely  had  Grandpa  arranged  the  merest  prelimi- 
naries of  his  tale  when  ominous  footsteps  were  heard 
returning  along  the  way  whither  Grandma  and  Madeline 
had  so  recently  departed,  and  he  was  interrupted  by  a 
strangely  calm  though  authoritative  voice  from  behind 
the  door;  "Pa!" 

"  Wall,  wall,  ma !  what  ye  want,  ma  ? "  exclaimed 
Grandpa,  turning  his  head  aside,  with  a  slight  shade  of 
annoyance  on  his  face. 

No  answer  immediately  forthcoming,  that  wofully 
illusory  smile  returned  again  to  his  features.  He  moved 
still  nearer  to  the  stove,  and  was  just  at  the  point  of 
resuming  the  thread  of  his  narrative  when  — 

"  Bijonah  Keeler  ! "  came  from  behind  the  door  in 
accents  still  calm,  indeed,  but  freighted  with  a  signifi- 
cance which  words  have  faint  power  to  express. 

"  Yis,  yis,  ma  !  I'm  a  coming,  ma  !  "  replied  Grandpa, 
rising  hastily  and  shuffling  toward  the  door ;  "  I'm  a 
coming,  ma  !  I'm  a  coming  !  " 

The  door  opened  wide  enough  to  receive  him,  and 
then  closed  upon  him  in  all  his  ignominy. 

The  sound  of  his  voice  in  irate  expostulation,  mingled 
with  the  steady  flow  of  those  serener  tones,  grew 
gradually  faint  in  the  distance,  and  I  was  left  alone  with 
the  sepulchral  group  of  young  men. 

They  arose,  still  maintaining  the  weighty  aspect  of 
those  elected  to  the  hour,  and  abruptly  opened  their 
lips  in  song. 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  57 

There  was  no  repression  now ;  the  Ark  fairly  rang 
with  the  sonorous  strains  of  that  wild  Jubilate. 
They  sang :  — 

'•  Light  in  the  darkness,  sailor, 

Day  is  at  hand ; 
See,  o'er  the  foaming  billows, 
Fair  haven  stands." 

Their  voices  rolling  in  at  the  chorus  with  the  resist- 
less sweep  of  the  ocean-waves :  — 

"  Pull  for  the  shore,  sailor, 

Pull  for  the  shore ; 
Heed  not  the  rolling  waves, 
But  bend  to  the  oar  :  " 

and  with  a  final  "Pull  for  the  shore,"  that  sent  that 
imaginary  life-boat  bounding  high  and  dry  on  the  strand 
at  the  hands  of  its  impulsive  crew. 

Then  they  sat  down  and  wiped  the  perspiration  from 
their  faces,  which  had  become  transfigured  with  a  sudden 
zest  and  radiance. 

I  recovered  myself  sufficiently  to  express  a  bewildered 
sense  of  pleasure  and  gratitude. 

"  Do  you  sing,  teacher  ? "  asked  Harvey  Dole,  a  round- 
faced  youth  with  an  irrepressible  fund  of  mirth  in  his 
eyes,  who  had  broken  in  on  the  former  silence  with  an 
unguarded  little  snicker. 

Lovell  Barlow,  he  of  the  dignified  countenance  and 
spade-shaped  beard,  had  faintly  and  helplessly  echoed 
that  snicker,  and  now  repeated  Harvey's  words  :  — 

"  Ahem,  certainly  —  Do  you  sing,  teacher  ?  Do  you, 
now  ?  Do  you  sing,  you  know  ? " 

I  had  some  new  and  seriously  awakened  doubts  on 
the  subject.  However,  the  degree  of  attainment  not 


58  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

being  brought  into  question,  I  felt  that  I  could  answer 
in  the  affirmative. 

The  countenances  of  the  group  brightened  still  more 
perceptibly. 

"  And  do  you  sing  No.  2  ?  "  inquired'Harvey,  eagerly. 

I  tried  to  assume,  in  reply,  a  tone  of  equal  animation. 

"Is  it  something  new?  I  don't  think  I've  heard  of 
it  before." 

"  Why,  it's  the  Moody  and  Sankey  hymn-book !" 
exclaimed  Harvey,  looking  suddenly  blank. 

I  strove  to  soften  the  effect  of  this  blow  by  a  lively 
show  of  recognition. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  perfectly  now.  It's  '  Hold  the 
Fort,'  '  Ring  the  Bells  of  Heaven,'  and  all  those  songs, 
isn't  it  ? " 

"'  Hold  the  Fort'  's  in  No.  i,"  said  George  Olver,  a 
new  speaker,  with  beautiful,  brave,  brown  eyes,  and  a 
soldierly  bearing. 

He  spoke,  correcting  me,  but  with  the  tender  consid- 
eration which  a  father  might  display  toward  an  unen- 
lightened child.' 

"  There's  three  numbers,"  said  Harvey  Dole,  "  and 
you  ought  to  learn  to  sing  'em,  teacher.  We  sing  'em 
.all  the  time,  down  here." 

"  You  are  fond  of  singing  ?  "  I  questioned. 

Ned  Vickery,  of  lithe  figure  and  straight  black  hair, 
a  denizen  of  the  Indian  encampment,  started  up,  flushing 
through  his  dark  skin. 

"  I  lul-love  it ! "  he  said. 

Ned  Vickery  sang  with  the  most  exquisite  smooth- 
ness, but  stumbled  a  little  in  prosaical  conversation. 

A  silent  Norwegian,  Lars  Thorjon,  who  had  sat  gaz- 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  59 

ing  at  me  and  smiling,  flushed  also  at  the  words,  and 
murmured  something  rapturous  with  a  foreign  accent. 

"  Yes,  we're  rather  fond  of  singing."  I  heard  George 
Olver's  resolute  tones. 

Harvey  Dole  gave  a  low,  expressive  whistle. 

"  I  like  it,  certainly,  ahem  !  I  do.  /  like  it,  you 
know,"  said  Lovell  Barlow. 

"We  have  a  singin'  time  generally  every  night,"  said 
Harvey.  "  Sometimes  Madeline  plays  for  us  on  her 
music,  and  sometimes  we  go  down  to  Becky's.  Made- 
line's melodeon  is  very  soft  and  purty,  but  George  here, 
he  likes  the  tone  of  Beck's  organ  best,  I  reckon.  Eh, 
George  ?  " 

Harvey  winked  facetiously  at  George  Olver,  who  red- 
dened deeply  but  did  not  cast  down  his  eyes. 

"If  I  was  you,  George,"  continued  the  merciless 
Harvey ;  "  I'd  lay  for  that  Rollin.  Gad,  I'd  set  a  match 
to  his  hair.  I'd  nettle  him  !  " 

"  I'd  show  him  his  p-p-place  !  "  stammered  Ned  Vick- 
ery,  with  considerable  warmth. 

"/would,  certainly,"  reiterated  the  automatic  Lovell. 
"  I'd  show  him  his  place,  you  know  ;  /  would  certainly." 

The  big  veins  swollen  out  in  George  Olver's  forehead 
knitted  themselves  there  for  an  instant  sternly. 

"I  don't  interfere  with  no  man's  business,"  said  he. 
"  So  long  as  he  means  honorable,  and  car'ies  out  his 
actions  fa'r  and  squar',  I  don't  begrudge  him  his  chance 
nor  meddle  in  his  affa'rs." 

Our  attention  was  suddenly  diverted  from  this  subject, 
which  was  evidently  growing  to  be  a  painful  one  to  one 
of  the  company,  by  the  sound  of  a  violin  played  with 
singular  skill  and  correctness  just  outside  the  window. 


60  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

"  Glory,  there's  Lute  !  "  exclaimed  Harvey,  bounding 
ecstatically  from  his  chair. 

"  Come  in,  Lute,  come  in  ?  "  he  shouted ;  "  and  show 
us  what  can  be  got  out  of  a  fiddle ! " 

"  Let  him  alone,"  said  George  Olver,  but  the  group 
had  already  vanished  through  the  door,  Lovell  following 
mechanically. 

"  That's  Lute  Cradlebow  fiddlin'  out  thar',"  George 
Olver  explained  to  me.  "  I  don't  want  'em  to  skeerhim 
off,  for  it  ain't  every  night  Lute  takes  kindly  to  his  fiddle. 
There's  times  he  won't  touch  it  for  days  and  days. 
Talkin'  about  Lute's  fiddlin'  —  I  suppose  it's  true  — 
there  was  some  fellows  out  from  Boston  happened  to 
hear  him  playin'  one  night,  up  to  Sandwich  te-own,  and 
they  offered  him  a  hundred  and  fifty  a  month  —  I  reckon 
that's  true  —  to  go  along  with  some  fiddlin'  company 
thar'  to  Boston,  and  he'd  got  more  if  he'd  stuck  to  it, 
but  Lute,  he  come  driftin'  back  in  the  course  of  a  week 
or  two.  I  don't  blame  him.  He  said  he  was  sick  on't. 

"  I  tell  you  how  'tis,  teacher.  Folks  that  lives  along 
this  shore  are  allus  talkin'  more'n  any  other  sort  of  folks 
about  going  off,  and  complainin'  about  the  hard  livin', 
and  cussin'  the  stingy  sile,  but  thar's  suthin'  about  it 
sorter  holts  to  'em.  They  allus  come  a  driftin'  back  in 
some  shape  or  other,  in  the  course  of  a  year  or  two  at 
the  farderest." 

The  door  was  thrown  wide  open  and  my  recreant 
guests  reappeared  half-dragging,  half-pushing  before 
them  a  matchless  Adonis  in  glazed  tarpaulin  trousers 
and  a  coarse  sailor's  blouse. 

I  recognized  at  once  in  the  perfect  physical  beauty  of 
the  eccentric  fiddler  only  a  reproduction,  in  a  larger 


"TEACHER,   THIS   IS   OUR  CHAMPION   FIDDLER."     page  61 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  6l 

form,  of  that  sadly  depraved  young  cherub  who  had 
danced  before  me  in  ghostly  habiliments  on  the  way  to 
school.  It  was  the  imp's  older  brother. 

"  Here's  Lute,  teacher !  "  cried  Harvey ;  "  he  wouldn't 
come  in  'cause  he  wasn't  slicked  up.  But  I  tell  him. 
clo's  don't  make  much  difference  with  a  humly  dog,  any- 
way. Come  along,  Lute,  and  put  them  blushes  in  your 
pocket  to  keep  yer  hands  warm  in  cold  weather.  Teacher, 
this  is  our  champion  fiddler,  inventor,  whale-fisher,  cran- 
berry-picker, and  potato-bugger,  —  Luther  Larkin  Cra- 
dlebow ! " 

The  youth  of  the  tuneful  and  birdlike  name  dealt  his 
tormentor  a  hearty  though  affectionate  cuff  on  the  ears, 
and  being  thus  suddenly  thrust  forward,  he  doffed  his 
broad  souwester,  took  the  hand  I  held  out  to  him,  and, 
stooping  down,  kissed  me,  quite  in  a  simple  and  audible 
manner,  on  the  cheek. 

It  was  done  with  such  gentle,  serious  embarrassment, 
and  Luther  Larkin  Cradlebow  was  so  boyish  and  quaint 
looking,  withal,  that  I  felt  not  the  slightest  inclination  to 
blush,  but  I  heard  Harvey's  saucy  giggle. 

"  Gad  !  "  said  he ;  "  hear  the  old  women  talk  about 
Lute's  being  bashful  and  not  knowin'  how  to  act  with 
the  girls !  Now  I  call  them  purty  easy  manners,  eh, 
Lovell  ?  What  do  you  think,  Lovell  ?  " 

"  Ahem,  certainly,  — "  responded  Lovell,  smiling  in 
vague  sympathy  with  the  laughing  group.  "  I  call  them 
so,  — certainly,  — /do." 

Only  George  Olver  turned  a  sober,  reassuring  face  to 
the  blushing  Cradlebow. 

"  Give  us  a  tune,  Lutie,"  said  he.  "  Lord,  I'd  laugh 
if  I  could  get  the  music  out  o'  them  strings  that  you 
can." 


62  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

The  Cradlebow  sat  down,  drew  his  bow  across  the 
strings  with  a  full,  quivering,  premonitory  touch,  and, 
straightway,  the  fiddle  began  to  talk  to  him  as  though 
they  two  were  friends  alone  together  in  the  room.  How 
it  played  for  him,  —  the  fiddle  —  as  though  it  were 
morning.  How  it  shouted,  laughed,  ran  with  him  in  a 
world  of  sunshine  and  tossing  blossoms  ! 

How  it  hoped  for  him,  swelling  out  in  grander  strains, 
wild  with  exultation,  tremulous  with  passion  ! 

How  it  mourned  for  him,  with  dying,  sweet  despair, 
until  one  almost  saw  the  night  fall  on  the  water,  and  the 
lone  sea-birds  flying,  and  heard  the  desolate  shrieking 
of  the  wind  along  the  shore. 

I  heard  a  real  sob  near  me,  and  looking  up  saw  the 
tears  rolling  down  Harvey's  rosy  cheeks. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  a  simple  melody,  —  I  think  it 
was  the  "  Sweet  By-and-By  "  —  the  player  stopped  and 
turned  suddenly  pale. 

"  That  was  a  new  string,  too !  "  he  said  ;  "  and  only 
half"  tight."  Then  he  blushed  violently,  seeking  to  hide 
the  irritation  of  his  tone  under  a  careless  laugh. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind  the  string,"  he  went  on;  "that's 
easy  mended,  but  I  happened  to  think  it's  a  bad  sign, 
that's  all  —  to  break  down  so  in  the  middle  of  a  tune.'" 

"  Darn  the  sign  !  "  exclaimed  Harvey,  "  I  wanted  to 
hear  that  played  through." 

"  You  remember  Willie  Reene  ?  "  Luther  turned  his 
eyes,  still  unnaturally  bright  with  excitement,  towards 
George  Olver. 

"  Ay,  I  remember,"  said  George  Olver.  "  I  was 
goin'  mackerellin'  with  ye  myself  that  time,  only  I 
wrinched  my  wrist  so." 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS,  63 

"  We  was  out  on  deck  together,"  Luther  continued.  "  I 
was  lying  down,  —  it  was  a  strange,  warmish  sort  of  a 
night  —  and  Willie  played.  He  played  a  long  time.  It 
was  just  in  the  middle  of  a  tune  he  was  playin',  that  — 
snap  !  the  string  went  in  just  that  way.  I  never  thought 
anything  about  it.  I  tried  to  laugh  him  out  of  it,  and 
he  laughed,  but  says  he,  '  It's  a  bad  sign,  Lute.'  Likely 
it  had  nothin'  to  do  with  it,  but  I  think  of  it  sometimes, 
and  then  it  seems  as  though  I  must  go  to  that  same 
place  and  look  for  him  again.  I  never  done  anything 
harder  than  when  I  left  him  there." 

"  You  done  the  best  you  could,"  George  Olver  an- 
swered stoutly.  "  They  said  you  dove  for  him  long  and 
long  after  it  wasn't  no  use." 

"  No  use,"  Luther  repeated,  shaking  his  head  sadly 
and  abstractedly  ;  "  no  use." 

"  There's  naught  in  a  sign,  anyway,"  George  Olver 
affirmed. 

"  They  don't  worry  me  much,  you  can  depend  "  —  the 
player  looked  up  at  length  with  a  singularly  bright  and 
gentle  smile.  "  But  Grannie,  she  believes  in  'em,  truly. 
She's  got  a  sign  in  a  dream  for  everything,  Grannie  has, 
so  I  hear  lots  of  it." 

Harvey  Dole  had  quite  recovered  by  this  time  from 
his  tearfully  sentimental  mood. 

"  Now  it's  strange,"  he  began,  with  an  air  of  mysterious 
solemnity ;  "  there  was  three  nights  runnin'  that  I 
dreamed  I  found  a  thousand-dollar  bill  to  the  right 
hand  corner  of  my  bury  drawer,  and  every  mornin'  when 
I  woke  up  and  went  to  git  it  —  it  wa'n't  there,  so  I  know 
the  rats  must  'a'  carried  it  off  in  the  night,  and  a  pretty 
shabby  trick  to  play  on  a  feller,  too  —  but  then  you 


64  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

can't  blame  the  poor  devils  for  wantin'  a  little  pin- 
money. 

"  Did  I  ever  tell  ye  how  Uncle  Randal  tried  to  clear 
'em  out  'o  his  barn  ?  .  Wall,  he  traded  with  Sim  Peck  up 
to  West  Wallen,  a  peck  o'  clams  for  an  old  cat  o'  hisn, 
that  was  about  the  size,  Uncle  Randal  said,  of  a  yearlin' 
calf,  and  he  turned  her  into  the  barn  along  o'  the  rats, 
and  shut  the  door,  and  the  next  mornin',  he  went  out 
and  there  was  a  few  little  pieces  of  fur  flyin'  around  and 
devil  a  —  devil  a  cat!  Uncle  Randal  said." 

"  You're  the  D  —  d  —  d  —  you're  it,  yourself,  Har- 
vey !  "  stammered  Ned  Vickery. 

"  You'd  better  look  out,  Ned,"  Harvey  giggled,  "  we're 
all  a  little  nearer'n  second  cousins  down  here  to  Wallen- 
camp.  Ned's  mother  didn't  use  to  let  him  go  to  school 
much,  teacher,"  Harvey  added,  turning  to  me  ;  "it  used 
to  wear  him  out  luggin'  home  his  '  Reward  o'  merit' 
cards." 

"I  n-n-never  got  any,"  Ned  retorted,  blushing 
desperately  through  his  dark  skin ;  "  n-n-nor  you 
either ! " 

"I  guess  that's  so,  Harvey,"  said  Lovell  Barlow, 
quite  gravely ;  "  I  rather  think  that's  so,  Harvey  —  ahem, 
I  guess  it  is." 

When  my  visitors  rose  to  depart  they  formed  in  line, 
with  George  Olver  and  Luther  at  the  head.  George 
Olver  was  the  spokesman  of  the  group.  He  offered  me 
his  strong  brown  hand  in  hearty  corroboration  of  his 
words  :  "  We're  a  roughish  sort  of  a  set  down  here, 
teacher,  but  whenever  you  want  friends  you'll  know 
right  whar'  to  find  us  ;  we  mean  that  straight  through 
and  fair  an'  kindly.'* 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  65 

I  thanked  him,  and  then  Luther  gave  me  his  hand, 
but  did  not  kiss  me,  in  departing. 

Each  member  of  the  phalanx  gave  me  his  hand  in 
turn,  with  a  hearty  "  Good  night,"  and  so  they  passed 
out.  The  door  closed  behind  them.  I  meditated  a  space, 
and  when  I  looked  up,  there  was  Lovell  Barlow's  pale 
face  peering  into  the  room. 

"  Ahem  —  Miss  Hungerford  !  "  he  murmured,  in 
awful  accents  :  "  Miss  Hungerford  !  " 

Could  it  be  some  telegram  from  my  home  thus 
mysteriously  arrived  ?  The  thought  flashed  through  my 
mind  before  reason  could  act. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  I  gasped,  hastening  to  meet  the 
informer. 

Lovell  Barlow  handed  me  a  picture ;  it  was  a  small 
daguerreotype,  in  which  the  mild  and  beneficent  features 
of  that  worthy  being  himself  shone  above  his  own 
unmistakable  spade-shaped  whiskers. 

"  Would  you  like  it,  Miss  Hungerford  ?  "  said  he,  still 
with  the  same  deeply  impressive  air  ;  "  would  you,  now, 
really,  Miss  Hungerford  ?  would  you  like  it,  now  ?  " 

"Why,  certainly,"  I  exclaimed,  with  intense  relief; 
and  before  I  could  fully  appreciate  the  situation, 
Lovell  Barlow  cast  a  cautious  glance  about  him,  leaned 
his  head  forward,  and  whispered  hoarsely,  "  I've  got 
some  more,  at  home  —  ahem!  I've  got  six,  Miss  Hun- 
gerford. Mother  v/ants  to  keep  two  and  she's  promised 
Aunt  Marcia  one ;  but  you  can  have  one  any  time, 
Miss  Hungerford.  Ahem !  ahem !  You  can,  you 
know." 

"Thank  you,"  I  murmured,  while  it  seemed  as  though 
my  faculties  were* desperately  searching  for  light  on 


66  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

a  hitherto  unsounded  sea.  "  I  think  this  will  do  foi 
the  present." 

Lovell  nodded  his  head  with  a  grave  good-night  and 
disappeared. 

Meanwhile,  Grandma  and  Grandpa  Keeler  and 
Madeline  were  absorbing  this  last  impressive  scene  as 
they  slowly  emerged  from  that  unknown  quarter  of  the 
Ark  whither  they  had  retreated. 

Grandpa  looked  at  me  with  a  peculiar  twinkle  in  his 
eye. 

"So  Lovell  came  back  to  give  ye  his  picter,  eh, 
teacher  ?  "  said  he. 

I  returned  Grandpa's  look  with  cheerful  and  unoffend- 
ed  alacrity ;  but  Grandma  interrupted,  "  Thar',  now, 
pa  !  Thar',  now  !  We  mustn't  inquire  into  even-thing  we 
happen  to  get  a  little  wind  on.  Ye  see,  teacher,"  she 
continued,  in  tones  of  the  broadest  gentleness,  "we 
knew  they'd  be  sorter  bashful  gettin'  acquainted  the 
first  night,  and  so  we  thought  it  'ud  be  easier  for  'em  if 
we  should  leave  'em  to  themselves,  and  we  knew  you  was 
so — we  knew  you  wouldn't  care." 

As  Grandpa  resumed  his  accustomed  seat  by  the  fire, 
an  expansive  grin  still  lingered  on  his  features. 

"  Ah,  he's  a  queer  fellow,  that  Lovell,"  said  he  ;  "  but 
he's  quick  to  larn,  they  say,  lams  like  a  book.  I'll  tell 
ye  what's  the  trouble  with  him,  teacher.  He's  been  tied 
too  long  to  his  mother's  apron-strings.  He  don't  know 
no  more  about  the  world  than  a  chicken.  He's  thirty 
odd  now,  I  guess,  and  I  reckon  he  ain't  never  been 
further  away  from  the  beach  than  Sandwich  te-own." 

"  I  don't  know  as  we'd  ought  to  blame  him,"  said 
Grandma  Keeler ;  "  though  to  be  sure,  Lovell's  more 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  67 

quiet-natured  than  some  that  likes  to  be  wanderin'  off 
as  young  folks  will,  generally ;  but  he  was  the  only  one 
they  had,  and  Lovell's  allus  been  a  good  boy.  Pa  and 
me,  when  we  go  to  meetin',  we  most  allus  come  across 
him  a  carryin'  his  Sunday  School  book  under  his  arm, 
and  may  be,"  concluded  Grandma  Keeler,  "  there'll  be 
a  time  when  we  shall  more  on  us  wish  that  thar'  wan't 
nothin'  wuss  could  be  brought  against  us  than  being 
innocent." 

We  pondered  these  suggestive  words  a  few  moments 
in  silence;  then  Grandpa  Keeler  boldly  interposed  :  — 

"  That  Lute  Cradlebow  —  he's  a  handsome  boy, 
teacher.  Ah,  he's  a  handsome  one.  They're  a  hand- 
some family,  them  Cradlebows. 

"  There's  the  old  grannie,  Aunt  Sibby  they  call  her. 
Lord,  she's  got  a  head  on  her  like  a  picter !  They're 
high-bred,  too,  I  reckon.  To  begin  with,  why,  Godfrey 
—  Godfrey  Cradlebow  —  that's  Lute's  father,  teacher; 
he's  college  bred,  I  suppose !  He  had  a  rich  uncle  thar', 
that  took  a  shine  to  him,  and  kind  o'  'dopted  him  and 
eddicated  him,  but  Godfrey,  he  took  a  shine  to  a  poor 
girl  thar',  dreadfully  handsome,  she  was,  but  yet  they  was 
both  on  'em  young,  and  it  didn't  suit  the  old  uncle,  so 
he  left  him  to  shift  for  himself.  And  Godfrey,  he  tried 
one  thing  and  another,  and  never  held  long  to  nothin',  I 
guess,  and  finally  he  drifted  down  this  way,  and  here  he 
stuck. 

"  He's  got  a  good  head,  Godfrey  has,  but  he  wasn't 
never  extry  fond  o'  work,  I  reckon,  and  he's  growed 
dreadful  rheumatiky  lame,  and  he  has  his  sprees, 
occasionally. 

"  Liddy,  that's  his  wife,  teacher,   she  was   full  good 


68  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

enough  for  him  when  ye  come  to  the  p'int.  Oh,  she's  a 
smart  wife,  and  she's  had  a  hard  row,  so  many  children 
and  nothin'  to  do  with,  as  ye  might  say.  Why,  they've 
had  thirteen  children,  ain't  they,  ma  ? 

"  Le'  me  see  —  four  on  'em  dead,  and  three  on  'em  — 
no  !  four  on  'em  married,  and  three  on  'em  —  How  is't, 
ma?" 

Grandma  then  took  up  the  tangled  thread  of  the  old 
Captain's  discourse,  with  calm  disdain,  and  proceeded  to 
disclose  an  appalling  array  of  statistics,  not  only  in 
regard  to  the  Cradlebow  family,  but  including  generations 
of  men  hitherto  unknown  and  remote. 

When  I  signified  a  desire  to  retire  for  the  night, 
Madeline  informed  me,  with  a  brisk  and  hopeful  air, 
that  my  room  was  "all  ready  now." 

She  led  the  way  up  a  short  and  narrow  little  staircase 
into  a  low  garret,  where,  amid  a  dark  confusion  of  objects, 
I  was  forcibly  reminded  of  the  rows  of  hard  substances 
suspended  from  the  rafters.  Turning  to  the  left,  the 
rays  of  the  candle  revealed  a  small  red  door  framed  in 
among  the  unpainted  boards  of  the  wall. 

There,  Madeline  bade  me  a  flippant  and  musical  good- 
night, and  I  entered  my  room,  alone. 

Within,  the  contrast  between  the  door  and  the  brown 
walls  was  still  more  effectively  drawn. 

The  bed,  neatly  made,  stood  in  a  niche  where  the  roof 
slanted  perceptibly  downward,  so  that  the  sweetly 
unconscious  sleeper  (as  I  found  afterwards)  perchance 
tossing  his  head  upward,  in  a  dream,  was  doomed  to 
bring  that  member  into  resounding  contact  with  the 
ceiling.  I  judged  something  of  the  restless  proclivities 
of  the  last  occupants  of  the  room  by  the  amount  of 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  69 

plastering  of  which  this  particular  section  had  been 
deprived.  In  this,  and  in  other  places  where  it  had 
fallen,  it  had  been  collected  and  tacked  up  again  to  the 
ceiling  in  cloth  bags  which  presented  a  graceful  and 
drooping,  though  at  first  sight,  rather  enigmatical 
appearance. 

The  chimney  ran  through  the  room  forming  a  sort  of 
unique  centre-piece. 

This  and  more  I  accepted,  wearily,  and  then  sank 
down  by  the  bed  and  cried.  Outside,  before  the  one 
small  window,  stood  a  peach  tree.  Afterward,  when 
this  had  grown  to  be  a  very  dear  little  room  to  me,  I 
looked  out  cheerfully  through  its  branches,  warm  with 
sunshine,  and  fragrant  with  bloom ;  but  now  it  was  bare 
and  ghostly,  and,  as  the  wind  blew,  one  forlorn  twig 
trailed  back  and  forth  across  the  window. 

For  an  hour  or  more  after  my  head  touched  the  pillow, 
I  lay  awake  listening  to  the  unaccustomed  sound  of  the 
surf  and  those  skeleton  fingers  tapping  at  the  pane. 


\ 

70  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE  TURKEY  MOGUL  ARRIVES. 


STUDIED  Becky  Weir  in  school,  the  next 
day,  with  special  interest.  She  was  a  girl  of 
seventeen  or  eighteen,  with  the  stately,  sub- 
stantial presence  of  one  of  nature's  own  goddesses. 
She  had  a  fresh,  constant  color  in  her  cheeks,  a  pure, 
low  forehead,  and  eyes  that  were  clear,  gray,  and  large, 
but  with  a  strangely  appealing,  helplessly  animal 
expression  in  them,  I  fancied,  as  she  lifted  them,  oft- 
times,  to  mine.  She  was  distinguished  among  my  young 
disciples  by  the  faithful,  though  evidently  labored  and 
wearisome  attention,  she  gave  to  her  books. 

Her  glance,  bent  on  some  small  wretch  who  was  mis- 
behaving, had  a  peculiarly  significant  force.  The  little 
ones  all  seemed  to  love  her  and  to  stand  rather  in  awe 
of  her,  too. 

Entering  the  school-room  in  the  morning,  she  discov- 
ered a  network  of  strings,  which  one  Lemuel  Biddy  had 
artfully  laid  between  the  desks,  intending  thereby  to 
waylay  and  prostrate  his  human  victim,  and  stooping 
down,  she  boxed  the  miscreant,  not  cruelly  but  effectively, 
on  the  ears.  I  was  surprised  to  see  that  the  boy  seemed 
to  regard  this  infliction  as  the  simple  and  natural  award 
of  justice,  bowed  his  head  and  wept  penitently,  and  was 
subdued  for  some  time  afterward. 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  71 

To  me,  whose  earliest  years  had  been  guided  and 
illuminated  on  the  principle  that  reason  and  persuasion 
alone  are  to  be  used  in  the  training  of  the  tender  twig, 
this  little  occurrence  afforded  food  for  serious  wonder 
and  reflection.  I  doubted  if  the  logic  of  the  sages  or 
the  wooing  of  the  celestial  seraphim  would  have  wrought 
with  such  convincing  power  on  the  mind  and  ears  of 
Lemuel  Biddy. 

If  Rebecca  perchance,  after  painfully  protracted 
exertions,  succeeded  in  working  out  some  simple  prob- 
lem in  arithmetic,  her  slate  containing  the  solution  was 
freely  handed  about  among  her  unaspiring  comrades ; 
so  that  I  judged  her  to  be  "  weakly  generous  "  as  well 
as  "  plodding,"  —  qualities  not  of  a  high  order,  I 
esteemed,  yet  by  no  means  insuperable  barriers  to 
friendship  when  found  to  enter  more  or  less  largely  into 
the  composition  of  one's  friends. 

There  was  something  in  my  novel  relation  to  the  girl 
as  her  teacher  peculiarly  fascinating  to  me.  At  recess 
she  remained  in  her  seat  and  kept  quietly  at  her  work. 

I  went  down  and  stood  over  her.  "  Can  I  help  you, 
my  dear  ?  "  I  said. 

Whatever  might  have  been  the  pedantic  or  obtrusively 
condescending  quality  of  those  words,  Rebecca  seemed 
to  find  nothing  distasteful  in  them.  She  looked  up  with 
a  "  Thank  you,"  and  a  pleased,  trustful  face  like  a  child's. 
"  I  can't  do  this  one,"  said  she.  "  I've  finished  the  rest, 
but  this  wouldn't  come  right,  somehow." 

It  was  a  sum  in  simple  addition.  I  could  not  help 
a  feeling  of  deep  surprise  and  commiseration  that  one 
of  Rebecca's  age  should  have  stumbled  at  it  at  all,  but  I 
essayed  to  examine  it  very  closely  and  worked  it  out 


72  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

for  her  as  slowly  as  possible.  "  Do  you  see  your  mis- 
take ? "  I  said. 

She  blushed  painfully.  The  tears  almost  stood  in 
her  eyes. 

"  Yes,  and  I  knew  you'd  have  to  find  out  how  dull  I 
was,"  she  said  ;  "  but  I  dreaded  it.  When  Miss  Waite 
was  here,  mother  was  sick  and  I  didn't  go  to  school  at 
all,  and  Miss  Waite  took  me  for  a  friend  ;  and  I  told 
mother  I'd  most  rather  not  go  to  school  to  you,  for  Miss 
Waite  said  you'd  be  a  real  friend,  and  I  knew  you  wouldn't 
want  me  when  you  found  how  dull  I  was." 

I  looked  at  the  girl,  and  a  bright,  hesitating  smile 
woke  in  her  face. 

"  Do  you  know,  Rebecca,"  I  said,  "  I  don't  choose 
my  friends  for  their  mental  qualifies  tions  —  for  what 
they  know;  I  select  them  just  as  people  do  horses  — 
by  their  teeth.  Let  me  see  yours." 

Rebecca  laughed  most  musically,  thus  disclosing 
two  brilliant  rows  of  ivories.  I  had  noticed  them 
before. 

"  You'll  do ! "  I  exclaimed,  lightly.  "  I  take  you 
into  my  heart  of  hearts.  Now,  what  is  your  standard  of 
choice  ?  What  charming  characteristic  do  you  first 
require  in  a  friend,  Rebecca  ? " 

"  Oh  ! "  said  she,  gasping  a  little  and  speaking  very 
slowly;  "I — : don't  —  know.  I  —  don't  —  think — I've 
got  any." 

"  Don't  be  afraid  lest  you  shall  guess  something  that 
I  have  not,  my  dear,"  I  said ;  "  You  can  hardly  go 
astray.  Begin  with  modesty,  if  you  please,  truly  the 
chief  of  virtues." 

Rebecca  caught  quickly  the  meaning  in  my  tone,  and 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  73 

answered  with  a  low  ripple  of  laughter.  When  I  urged 
her,  she  grew  gravely  embarrassed. 

"Well,"  said  she  ;  "  I  don't  think  I  should  want  any- 
body that  I  thought  I  couldn't  ever  help  them  any,  you 
know.  That  wouldn't  ever  need  me,  I  mean,  and  I 
know,"  she  went  on  more  hastily  ;  "  it  seems  funny  to 
say  that  to  you,  because  it  seems  as  though  there  wasn't 
anything  that  I  could  ever  do  for  you  —  because  you  — 
you  seem  —  not  to  need  anybody  —  but  I  didn't  know 
but  some  time  —  there  might  be  something  —  I  thought 
—  maybe  —  some  time." 

Rebecca  paused  and  looked  up  at  me  with  that  pitifully 
beseeching  expression  in  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  I  answered,  still  carelessly  ;  "  no  doubt  I 
shall  be  a  great  burden  to  you  in  time.  But  you  do  help 
me  now,  dear,  by  your  conduct  in  school.  You  helped 
me  this  morning  when  you  boxed  Lemuel  Biddy's  ears. 
I  shall  have  to  take  boxing  lessons  of  you." 

"  You  be  the  scholar,"  Rebecca  answered  quickly, 
her  lips  parting  again  with  a  merry  outburst  of  laughter. 

"  Wretch !  "  said  I,  well  pleased  but  affecting  a  tone 
of  deep  severity ;  "  you  must  not  be  saucy  to  your 
teacher  !  I  shall  keep  you  in  the  rest  of  your  recess  for 
that. 

"  Do  you  like  to  study,  Rebecca  ? "  I  added  pres- 
ently. 

"  No-o,"  said  she,  much  abashed  at  the  admission, 
and  yet  evidently  incapable  of  speaking  otherwise  than 
according  to  the  simple  dictates  of  her  conscience.  "  1 
don't  think  I  should  care  anything  about  it  if  it  didn't 
make  you  so  dull  not  to.  I  mean,"  she  continued ; 
"  perhaps  I  might  'a'  liked  it  if  I'd  been  to  school  right 


74 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


along,  but  we  never  did.  And  I  was  to  the  mills  up  to 
Taunton.  I  didn't  stay  long  there.  Then  mother  was 
sick.  They  don't  any  of  the  scholars  be  let  to  go  very 
regular.  Sometimes  they're  wanted  to  work  out.  So  they 
forget.  So  they  don't  care  much,  I  think.  They  get  to 
dreading  it.  I  wanted  to  tell  you  so  you  wouldn't  think 
it  so  much  blame  —  our  bein'  so  backward." 

"  It  is  the  faithful  improvement  of  what  opportunities 
we  have,  Rebecca,"  I  began  and  then  paused,  somewhat 
confused  by  the  throng  of  lively  reminiscences  which 
suddenly  crowded  my  mental  horoscope.  "  You  are 
young  yet,  my  dear,"  I  concluded  gravely,  with  a 
resigned  sigh  for  my  own  departed  youth ;  "  you  can 
make  up  for  lost  time.  It  is  pleasant  to  give,  but  there 
maybe  circumstances  in  which  it  is  our  duty  imperatively 
to  receive.  You  must  let  me  do  all  I  can  for  you  this 
winter.  I  do  want  you  for  a  friend,  but  I  would  rather 
it  should  be  on  these  plainly  implied  conditions." 

Rebecca  had  been  studying  my  face,  thoughtfully,  with 
a  still  expression  of  wonder. 

"  I'll  try  to  learn,"  said  she,  slowly.  "  I'll  do  anything 
you  want  me  to." 

"  Do  you  like  to  read  ? "  I  inquired,  in  a  brighter 
tone. 

"  Stories  ?  "  said  Rebecca,  a  sparkle  waking  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Stories  mixed  with  other  things,"  I  insisted,  gently  ; 
and  was  then  compelled  to  wonder  how  many  of  those 
"  other  things  "  had  found  their  way  into  the  literary 
appointment  of  my  trunk. 

"  I'll  try,"  said  Rebecca. 

"  Come  to  the  Ark,  after  school,  and  look  over  the 


CAPE  COD   FOLKS.  75 

books  I  have.  We  will  talk  some  more  about  it,  and 
you  shall  select  as  you  please,  or  I  will  select  for  you,  if 
you  desire,"  I  said,  looking  at  Rebecca  with  kindly 
though  severe  penetration. 

"I'd  rather  you  would,"  said  Rebecca,  obediently. 

To  inflict  this  particular  sort  of  patronage  was  a 
delightfully  new  experience  for  me.  The  glaring  incon- 
sistencies which  confronted  me  at  every  turn  only  gave  a 
heightened  zest  to  the  pursuit. 

When  I  went  to  the  door  to  blow  the  horn  I  felt  that 
Rebecca  already  regarded  me  as  her  patron,  guide,  and 
spiritual  mentor,  and  I  was  seriously  resolved  to  fill 
these  positions  hopefully  for  her  and  with  credit  to 
myself.  With  respect  to  the  rest  of  my  flock,  I  felt  a 
different  sort  of  interest  —  the  wide-awake  concern  of 
one  who  finds  himself  suddenly  perched  on  the  back  of 
a  mettlesome,  untried  steed. 

Any  one  member  of  that  benighted  corps,  taken  as  the 
subject  of  pruning  and  cultivating  effort,  would  have 
occupied,  I  believed,  the  faithful  labors  of  a  lifetime. 
Considered  as  a  gloriously  rampant  mass,  the  aspect  of 
the  field  was  appalling. 

I  was  especially  impressed  with  this  view  of  the  case 
when  I  went  to  toot  them  in  from  those  free  and  reckless 
diversions  in  which  their  souls  expanded  and  their  bodies 
became  as  the  winged  creatures  of  the  earth. 

The  horn  was  still  an  object  of  terror  to  me,  though 
experience  had  made  me  wise  enough  to  institute,  on  all 
occasions,  a  careful  preliminary  search  for  buttons. 

Its  blast,  freighted  with  baleful  meaning  to  the  ears 
of  sportive  innocence,  found  a  melancholy  echo  among 
the  deeper  woes  of  my  own  heart,  and,  if  it  chanced  to 


^6  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

be  one  of  Aunt  Lobelia's  singing  days,  the  "  Dar'  to  be 
a  Dan-yell !  Dar'  to  be  a  Dan-yell  !  "  which  floated 
across  the  lane,  had  but  a  doubtfully  inspiriting  effect. 

I  felt,  indeed,  like  a  Daniel  doomed  to  convocate  my 
own  lions,  and  lacking  that  faith  in  a  preserving 
Providence  which  is  believed  to  have  cheered  and 
elevated  the  spirit  of  the  ancient  prophet,  I  confidently 
expected,  on  the  whole,  to  be  devoured. 

Gathered  into  their  den,  my  lively  herd  gasped  some 
moments  as  though  suffering  the  last  loud  agony  of 
expiring  breath,  and  then,  bethinking  them  of  that  only 
one  of  their  free  and  native  elements  now  obtainable, 
they  sent  up  a  universal  cry  for  "  water  !  " 

Ah  !  what  to  do  with  them  through  the  long  hours  of 
the  day  —  beautiful  creatures  !  by  no  means  unlovable, 
with  their  bright,  clear  eyes,  their  restless,  restless  feet, 
their  overflowing  spirits ;  their  bodies  all  alive,  but  with 
minds  unfitted  by  birth,  unskilled  by  domestic  discipline, 
to  any  sort  of  earnest  and  prolonged  effort.  Long, 
weary  hours,  therefore,  not  of  furnishing  instruction  to 
the  hungry  and  inquiring  mind  —  ah,  no!  —  but  of  a 
desperately  sustained  struggle  in  which,  with  every 
faculty  on  the  alert  to  discover  the  truest  expedients, 
with  every  nerve  strained  to  the  utmost,  I  strove  for  the 
mastery  over  this  antic,  untamed  animal,  until  I  could 
throw  the  reins  loose  at  night,  and  drop  my  head  down 
on  my  desk  in  the  deserted  school-room,  tired,  tired, 
tired  ! 

The  parents  of  the  children  "  dropped  in  "  often  at 
the  Ark,  and  savored  the  lively  and  varied  flow  of  their 
discourse  with  choice  dissertations  on  methods  of  dis- 
cipline. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  77 

"  I  want  my  children  whipped,"  said  Mr.  Randall 
Alden.  "  That's  what  they  need.  They  git  enough  of 
it  at  home.  It  won't  skeer 'em  any — and  I  tell  the 
folks  if  they'd  all  talk  like  that,  they  wouldn't  be  no 
trouble  in  the  school." 

"  Ye  can't  drive  Milton  P.,"  said  that  hopeful's  mother. 
"  He's  been  drove  so  much  that  he  don't  take  no  notice 
of  it.  If  coaxing  won't  fetch  him,  nothin'  won't ;  and  I 
tell  'em  if  they  was  all  like  that  they  wouldn't  be  no 
trouble  in  the  school." 

"  Well,"  said  Emily  Gaskell,  the  matron  of  the  painted 
house,  a  tall,  angular  woman,  with  the  hectic  of  the 
orthodox  Yankee  consumption  on  her  cheeks,  and  the 
orthodox  Yankee  twinkle  in  her  eye ;  "  ye  can  manage 
my  boys  whatever  way  ye  please,  teacher.  I  ain't  per- 
tickeler.  They've  been  coaxed  and  they've  been  whipped, 
but  they've  always  made  out  to  mind  by  doin'  pretty 
much  as  they  was  a  mind  to.  They're  smart  boys,  too," 
she  added,  with  sincere  pride ;  "  but  they  don't  take  to 
larnin'.  I  never  see  sich  boys.  Ye  can't  git  no  larnin' 
into  'em  no  way.  They'd  rather  be  whipped  than  go  to 
school.  Sim  had  a  man  to  work  on  our  cranberry  bog, 
and  he  found  out  that  he  was  first-rate  in  'rithmetic,  this 
man  was,  and  so  Sim,  says  he,  '  I'll  give  ye  the  same  ye 
git  on  the  bog,'  says  he,  '  to  stay  up  to  the  house  and 
larn  my  boys  'rithmetic,'  says  he ;  and  the  man,  he  tried 
it,  and  in  the  course  of  a  day  or  two,  he  come  around  to 
Sim,  and  wanted  to  know  if  he  couldn't  go  back  to  clarin' 
bog  again."  % 

Emily  took  in  the  broadly  contemplative  expression 
on  Grandma  Keeler's  benign  features,  and  then  winked 
at  me  facetiously :  "  I  tell  'em  if  they  was  all  like  that," 


78  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

said  she  ;  "  and  I  guess  they  be,  pretty  much,  they  might 
as  well  be  out  o'  doors  as  in,  and  less  worryin'  to  the 
teacher." 

It  might  have  been  the  third  day  of  my  labors  in 
Wallencamp  that  a  man,  having  the  appearance  of  a 
lame  giant,  entered  the  school-room,  and  advanced  to 
meet  me  with  an  imposing  dignity  of  mien.  He  held 
captive,  with  one  powerful  hand,  a  stubbornly  speechless, 
violently  struggling  boy.  I  recognized  the  man  as  God- 
frey Cradlebow,  the  handsome  fiddler's  father,  and  the 
boy  was  none  other  than  the  imp  whose  eyes,  scorching 
and  defiant  now,  had  first  sent  mocking  glances  back  at 
me  while  their  light-limbed  owner  kicked  out  a  jaunty 
rigadoon  from  under  the  encircling  folds  of  his  sacerdo- 
tal vestments. 

"  Miss  Hungerford,  I  beg  your .  pardon,"  said  the 
elder  Cradlebow,  with  a  distinct,  refined  enunciation 
foreign  to  the  native  element  of  Wallencamp,  whose  or- 
dinary locution  had  something  of  a  Hoosier  accent. 
"  After  a  good  deal  of  trouble  in  catching  him,  I  have 
finally  succeeded  in  bringing  you  in  this  —  a — this 
little  dev" — he  made  an  impressive  pause,  patted  his 
fiery  offspring  on  the  head  with  fatherly  dignity,  and 
eyed  him,  at  once  doubtfully  and  reflectively. 

I  was  interested  in  observing  the  aspect  of  the  two 
faces. 

"  The  little  boy  resembles  you,  I  think,"  I  said. 

The  lame  man  struck  his  cane  down  hard  upon  the 
floor  and  laughed  immoderately. 

"  If  you  knew  what  I  had  in  my  mind  to  say  ! "  he 
exclaimed  —  "  ah !  that  was  well  put,  well  put !  — 
though  but  dubiously  complimentary,  but  dubiously  so, 
I  assure  you,  either  to  father  or  son  1  " 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.        .  79 

The  idea  still  continuing  to  tickle  him,  he  laughed 
more  gently,  beating  a  sympathetic  tattoo  with  his  cane 
on  the  floor. 

"  To  pursue  directly  the  cause  of  my  intrusion  here," 

he  went  on,  at  length,  "  this  little well,  for  present 

purposes,  we  will  call  him  the  Phenomenon.  I  confess 
it  is  a  name  to  which  he  is  not  totally  unused.  This 
little  phenomenon,  whom  you  see  before  you,  is  the 
youngest  but  one  in  a  flock  of  thirteen.  Some  of  that 
beautiful  band  — "  here  Mr.  Cradlebow  raised  a  very 
shaky  hand  for  an  instant  to  his  eyes,  and  although  a 
fitting  occasion  for  sentiment,  I  was  compelled  to  think 
of  what  Grandpa  Keeler  had  said  about  Godfrey  Cra- 
dlebow's  "sprees"  —  "some  of  that  beautiful  band 
rest  in  the  graveyard,  yonder.  Some  of  them  already 
know  what  it  is  themselves  to  be  parents.  Some  of 
them  still  linger  in  the  poor  old  home  nest.  I  see  you 
have  here,  my  Alvin,  and  my  Wallace,  and  my  youngest, 
the  infant  Sophronia.  Well,  you  find  them  good  chil- 
dren, I  dare  say.  Ah  !  they  have  an  estimable  mother." 
Again,  he  lifted  his  hand  to  his  eyes.  "  Mischievous 
enough,  you  find  them,  probably,  but  amenable  — 
there  it  is,  amenable  — but  this  lad  "  —  Mr.  Cradlebow 
paused  again,  shaking  his  head  with  a  meaning  to  which 
he  gravely  declined  further  expression. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  I  inquired  of  the  little  boy, 
hopefully. 

"  Simmy  B.,"  he  answered  revengefully  in  a  tone  of 
alarming  hoarseness. 

"  Such  colds  as  that  boy  has  !  "  exclaimed  the  pater- 
nal Cradlebow.  "  They're  like  all  the  rest  of  him  — 
they're  phenomenal.  There  are  times  when  that  boy 


8o  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

appears  to  be  nothing  but  one  frightful,  perambulating 
cold  !  Well,"  he  sighed,  "  and  yet  it's  a  strange  fact, 
that  the  more  depraved  and  miserable  a  little  devil  is, 
the  more  his  mother  '11  coddle  him. 

"  Now  there's  this  one  and  my  Lute  —  Luther  Lar- 
kin  —  a  good  boy,  but  lacking  all  capacity  for  rest  — 
always  lacking  the  capacity  for  rest  —  uneasy,  both  of 
them  —  always  uneasy  !  but  how  the  mother  would  give 
her  own  rest  for  them,  and  seem  to  love  them  the  better 
for  it !  strange  !  They  have  always  been  her  idols,  too. 
Well,  I  have  captured  Simeon  and  brought  him  in.  I 
hope  you  may  keep  him.  The  rest  you  must  learn  for 
yourself.  The  Lord  help  me !  "  he  groaned,  as  he 
picked  up  his  cane,  with  evident  physical  pain,  and 
hobbled  out  of  the  room. 

Within  the  school-room,  things  resumed  their  custom- 
ary, Niagara-like  roar,  until  a  lamentable  voice  rose 
above  the  others,  and  was  straightway  followed  by  an- 
other voice  in  indignant  explanation. 

"  Teacher,  can't  Simmy  B.  stop  ?  He's  puttin'  beans 
down  Amber  G.'s  neck  ! " 

"  Simeon  !  "  I  exclaimed,  in  accents  calculated  to 
melt  that  youthful  heart  of  stone,  and  then  added ;  "  I 
will  speak  with  you  a  few  moments  alone,  at  recess." 

Simeon  looked  no  longer  helplessly  angry  as  when 
his  father  brought  him  in.  He  appeared,  on  the  whole, 
well  pleased,  but  I  scanned  his  angelic  features  in  vain 
for  any  trace  of  repentance. 

There  followed  a  few  moments  of  comparative  quiet. 
Then  came  a  startling,  sickening  sound  as  of  some  one 
undergoing  the  tortures  of  strangulation.  Then,  a  long, 
convulsive  gasp.  I  looked  down  upon  a  sea  of  round 
eyes  and  uplifted  hands. 


"TEACHER,   SIMMY'S   SWALLERED  A  SLATE   PENCIL."      Page  81 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  8 1 

"  Teacher,  Simmy's  swallered  a  slate-pencil !  Sim 
my's  swallered  a  slate-pencil  !  " 

"  He's  swallered  most  a  whole  one ! "  cried  the 
owner  of  one  pair  of  protruding  orbs. 

"  It  wa'n't !  "  retorted  Simeon,  flaming  with  righteous 
indignation  —  "  It  wa'n't  but  harf  a  one  !  " 

"  He  t-t-told  me,"  cried  a  young  scion  of  the  stam- 
mering Vickery  race,  all  breathless  with  excitement, 
"  that  he  was  going  to  p-p-put  it  into  his  m-m-mouth 
and  t-t-take  it  out  of  his  n-n-nose,  and  he  did  and 
it  t-t-t  —  and  it  slip-p-ped  !  " 

"  Wall,  jest  you  keep  your  eyes  peeled  and  your  ears 
cocked,"  replied  the  sturdy  Simeon,  in  hoarse  and  jar- 
ring accents  ;  "  and  see  if  I  don't  take  it  out  of  my  nose, 
yet." 

The  signs  of  that  painful  struggle  slowly  faded  out 
of  Simeon's  face  and  there  was  an  unusual  calm  in  the 
school-room. 

Perhaps  a  quarter  of  an  hour  elapsed.  I  was  thought- 
fully engaged  in  hearing  one  of  my  classes  when  startled 
by  the  sound  of  a  window  closed  with  a  sharp  bang. 
At  the  same  time  arose  the  universal  voice  : 

"  Simmy  B.'s  got  out  o'  the  winder!  Simmy  B.'s  got 
out  o'  the  winder  !  " 

I  looked  out  across  the  snowless  fields,  and  there 
having  already  scaled  two  fences  and  put  many  a  good 
rod  between  himself  and  the  scene  of  his  brief  imprison- 
ment, I  beheld,  borne  as  on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  the 
form  of  the  retreating  Simeon. 

An  incident  at  the  close  of  my  first  week  in  Wallen- 
camp  was  the  visit  of  the  "  Turkey  Mogul."  Such  was 
the  name  given  by  the  Wallencampers  to  Mr.  Baxter, 
the  superintendent  of  schools. 


82  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

Mr.  Baxter  lived  many  miles  away  in  Farmouth,  and 
was,  properly,  the  visitor  of  the  schools  in  Farmouth 
County.  Wallencamp  was  not  in  Farmouth  County. 
Nevertheless,  Mr.  Baxter  had  charge  of  the  Wallencamp 
school.  I  had  been  informed  that  he  drove  over  at  the 
beginning  and  close  of  each  term,  put  the  scholars 
through  the  most  "  dreadful  examins,"  and  gave  an  in- 
discriminate "  blowin'  up"  to  persons  and  things  in  the 
place.  So  I  looked  forward  to  his  coming  with  a  curi- 
osity not  unmingled  with  more  doubtful  emotions. 

It  was  Friday,  and  so  near  the  close  of  the  afternoon 
session  that  I  had  quite  dismissed  from  my  mind  the 
contemplation  of  any  dread  advent  for  that  day.  It  was 
just  at  that  trying  hour  of  Friday  afternoon  when  only 
the  spelling-classes  remained  to  be  heard,  and  teacher 
and  scholars  both  were  conscious,  the  one  with  a  deep 
inward  sense  of  relief,  the  others  with  many  restless 
demonstrations  of  impatience,  that  the  week  was  near 
its  close ;  and  that  "  to-morrow"  would  be  Saturday  and 
a  holiday. 

Estella  the  raven-haired  —  familiarly  known  as  the 
"  Modoc,"  a  long  and  ungainly  creature,  with  arms  and 
legs  so  seemingly  profuse  and  unmanageable,  that  they 
reminded  one  of  the  tentacles  of  a  cuttle-fish  —  Estella 
was  "passing  around  the  water." 

She  was  performing  this  accustomed  office  with  a 
grin  of  such  supreme  delight  and  satisfaction  as  seemed 
actually  to  illuminate  the  back  of  her  head,  when  the 
door  of  the  school-room  opened,  and  there,  without  any 
previous  warning,  appeared  a  grim,  fierce-looking  little 
man,  whom  I  knew  at  once  to  be  the  "  Turkey  Mogul." 

The  extreme  exigency  of  the  case  inspired  me  with 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  83 

a  certain  calmness  of  despair.  Having  advanced  to 
meet  this  august  personage,  conducted  him  to  the  desk, 
and  placed  for  him  the  official  chair,  which'  he  shortly 
refused,  I  lifted  my  eyes,  "prepared  for  any  fate,"  to 
observe  what  might  be  the  condition  of  my  turbulent 
flock,  and  lo  —  all  the  tops,  and  Jews-harps,  and  apples, 
and  whirligigs,  and  miniature  buzz-saws  had  disap- 
peared, and  there  was  an  array  of  pallid  faces  bent  over 
another  array  of  books  —  many  of  the  latter  were  upside 
clown,  but  the  effect  was  unbroken.  Even  Estella, 
moved  by  some  sudden  divine  sense  of  the  fitness  of 
things,  had  ceased  her  desultory  wanderings  about  the 
room  with  the  tin  dipper,  and,  not  having  had  time  to 
procure  a  book,  was  -working  out  imaginary  problems 
on  her  fingers  with  the  air  of  a  Herschel,  and  I  be- 
came slowly  conscious  that  there  was  such  a  stillness  in 
that  room  as  had  not  been  —  no,  nor  anything  like  unto 
it,  —  since  the  first  time  I  entered  there. 

I  think  Mr.  Baxter  must  have  observed  something  of 
the  look  of  helpless  astonishment  which  transfixed  my 
features.  I  certainly  saw  the  shadow  of  a  smile  lurking 
in  his  steel-gray  eyes. 

"  Yes,"  he  snarled,  addressing  the  school ;  "  yes,  if 
I  didn't  know  you,  now,  and  if  your  books  were  not, 
most  of  'em,  bottom  side  up,  and  if  I  shouldn't  be  com- 
pelled in  two  minutes  to  prove  the  contrary,  I  might 
possibly  imagine  that  you  were  studying  — yes  — 
humph ! " 

I  said  to  Mr.  Baxter,  as  cheerfully  as  possible,  that 
"  we  were  nearly  through  with  our  usual  routine  of 
classes  for  the  day,  but  I  should  be  happy,  of  course,  to 
repeat  any  of  the  recitations  which  he  might  care  to 
hear." 


84  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

"  Would  you  ?  "  said  he,  looking  at  me  not  unpleas 
antly.  "  Do  you  really  ask  me  to  believe  that  ?  um-in-m," 
he  murmured,  resuming  his  stern  aspect.  "  Let  me 
see  —  Geography  —  yes,  Miss  Hungerford,  you  may  call 
the  first  class  in  Geography." 

I  did  not  accuse  the  Superintendent  of  Schools  of 
malevolent  intentions,  but  I  could  honestly  have  af- 
firmed that  of  all  the  divisions  and  subdivisions  of  my 
empire  the  first  class  in  Geography  was  the  one  least 
calculated  to  shine  on  an  occasion  like  the  present. 

I  groaned  inwardly,  and  called  them  forth.  Their 
forlorn  and  wilted  appearance  as  they  formed  in  line 
went  to  my  heart.  I  was  resolved  to  defend  them  at 
whatever  cost. 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Baxter,  planting  himself  firmly, 
with  his  legs  rather  far  apart,  thrusting  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  and  staring  steadily  at  the  shivering  group 
from  under  his  awful  brows ;  "  what  is  Geography  ?  to 
begin  with.  That's  the  first  thing.  What  is  Geog- 
raphy ?  " 

For  a  moment  there  was  no  reply.  I  almost  began 
to  hope  that  there  would  be  none.  I  felt  that  here 
"  Silence  was  golden,"  and  if  maintained,  all  might  be 
comparatively  well ;  when,  to  my  dismay,  there  was  a 
sort  of  flank  movement  in  the  ranks  and  the  ill-starred 
Estella  raised  her  hand. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Baxter,  pointing  his  finger  stead- 
fastly at  her  as  if  to  impart  a  vein  of  concentration  to 
her  palpably  loose  and  floating  appearance  ;  "  You  !  you 
ought  to  know.  What  is  Geography,  eh  ? " 

Some  fair  wreck  of  an  idea,  formerly  appropriated  in 
this  connection,  floated  through  the  brain  of  the  "  Mo- 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  85 

doa"  She  opened  her  mouth  and  in  those  loud  and 
startling  accents,  for  which  she  was  ever  distinguished, 
gave  utterance  to  these  memorable  words  : 

"A  — round!  like  a  ball !  " 

Mr.  Baxter  glared  fiercely  at  her  for  a  moment,  and 
then  permitted  his  scorn  to  escape  in  a  long,  sarcastic 
hiss. 

"Yes-s-s,"  said  he;  "yes-s-s!  around  like  a  ball! 
Do  you  find  it  much  in  your  way,  eh  ?  Do  you  often 
give  it  such  a  kick  as  that,  eh  ?  Well,  take  your  seats ! 
take  your  seats  !  " 

The  Superintendent  of  Schools  seemed  disinclined 
to  evoke  any  further  catastrophes  of  this  sort,  but  pro- 
ceeded to  discourse  to  me,  aside,  in  a  confidential 
growl,  on  the  peculiar  and  erratic  natures  of  the  be- 
nighted Wallencampers. 

"  Their  minds,"  he  said,  with  a  grim  smile,  "  have  no 
receptivity.  They  must  originate,  or  they  are  naught. 
Parents  and  children  —  they  are  all  the  same.  I  am 
convinced  that  there  is  no  scholarship  to  be  established 
here.  It  has  been  tried  and  the  attempt  has  failed  a 
hundred  times.  It's  not  in  the  nature  of  things.  Get 
on  the  good  side  of  them,  that's"  all.  That  has  failed 
sometimes,  but  it  is  not  among  the  impossible  things. 
Get  on  the  good  side  of  them." 

Finally,  he  turned  to  address  the  children.  The 
"  examins "  had  certainly  not  been  severe,  but  the 
"  blowin'  up  "  was  faithfully  and  liberally  performed. 

Never  before  had  I  felt  so  drawn  to  my  poor,  wonder- 
ing, wolf-besieged  flock,  and  in  proportion  to  my  tender- 
ness for  them  waxed  my  indignation  toward  the  "  Tur- 
key Mogul." 


86  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

"You  can't  learn,"  said  he.  "That's  a  sufficiently 
established  fact,  but  if  you  don't  behave,  your  teacher  is 
going  to  write  to  me,  mind  !  and  I  shall  come  down  here 
in  my  buggy,  and  take  you  right  up  and  off  to  Farmouthj 
where  we  have  a  place  to  keep  all  such  naughty  boys 
and  girls." 

This  last  was  evoked  as  a  benediction.  Mr.  Baxter 
looked  at  his  watch,  and  remarked  that  it  was  a  long 
drive  to  Farmouth,  and  he  must  be  going.  "  Dismiss 
your  school,  Miss  Hungerford,"  he  said. 

Now  the  children  were  accustomed  —  it  was  a  special 
privilege  they  had  requested  —  to  sing,  before  the  school 
closed  at  night,  one  of  the  hymns  with  which  they  were 
all  so  familiar  in  Wallencamp. 

I  would  have  dismissed  them,  on  this  occasion,  with- 
out further  ceremony,  but  before  I  had  time  to  tap  my 
ruler  on  the  desk  as  a  signal  for  dismissal,  they  all 
struck  up  as  with  one  voice  :  — 

"  What  a  friend  we  have  in  Jesus, 

All  our  griefs  and  woes  to  share ! 
What  a  privilege  to  carry 
Everything  to  God  in  prayer." 

At  first  I  was  a  little  amused  at  the  incongruity  of  the 
thing.  Then  it  began  to  seem  to  me  inexpressibly 
touching. 

The  Superintendent  of  Schools  stood  with  a  cold, 
supercilious  grin  on  his  face,  a  stern,  self-sufficient  man, 
not  one  likely  to  echo  the  spirit  of  these  simple  words. 

I  stood  beside  him,  weary  and  perplexed  enough,  but 
ever  taking  counsel  of  the  pride  of  my  own  heart.  And 
those  poor  children,  with  their  hard,  toilsome,  barren 
lives  before  them,  how  they  sang  !  their  clear,  young 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  87 

voices  ringing  out  fearlessly,  carelessly  —  they  knew  the 
words.  I  wondered  if  any  one  in  the  room  appreciated 
the  song  as  having  inner  truth  and  meaning. 

As  I  was  locking  my  desk,  before  leaving  the  room,  I 
discovered  this  little  note,  which  Rebecca  had  dropped 
in  it. 

"  dere  teecher, 

"  I  wanted  to  do  sumthyng  to  help  yu  wen  I 
seen  him  come  in  To  Day  fur  I  new  jus  howe  yu  felt 
but  thay  wasent  no  wours  than  thay  always  was,  and  he 
nose  it !  and  thaystuddid  more  furyu  I  think  than  thay 
did  for  any  but  I  think  it  mus  be  harrd  for  yu  not  bein' 
use  to  us.  I  think  yu  was  tired.  When  we  was  singin' 
I  thot  howe  tired  yu  was,  but  thar'  was  always  won  to 
help.  Excus  writin'  pleas  but  I  wanted  to  let  yu  no  for 
yu  was  good  to  me  and  I  luv  yu.  Becky  Weir." 

Somehow,  the  little  note  rested  and  comforted  me, 
more  than  I  would  have  imagined,  a  week  before,  any 
expression  of  this  humble  disciple  of  mine  could  have 
done. 

I  held  the  letter  crumpled  in  my  hand  going  up  the 
lane.  Going  up  the  lane,  too,  I  met  Emily's  fisherman 
coming  gayly  home  from  the  river. 

Mr.  Rollin  stopped,  and  gallantly  requested  the  pleas- 
ure of  carrying  a  small  book  which  I  held  in  my  hand. 
He  walked  back  to  the  Ark  with  me,  talking  very 
fluently  the  while. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  began  ;  "  I  think  I'm  awfully 
fortunate  meeting  you  here  in  the  lane.  I've  been 
wishing  for  an  opportunity  to  speak  with  you  for  two  or 
three  days  past,  but  the  Ark  is  such  a  popular  resort  for 


88  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

the  youth  of  Wallencamp,  and  the  children  seem  to  be 
always  following  you.  Well,  they  regard  the  school 
teacher  as  their  special  property,  and  would  consider 
me  worse  than  an  intruder  if  I  should  go  in  to  take  even 
the  lowest  seat  in  the  synagogue.  I've  been  wanting  to 
speak  with  you  ever  since  that  first  night  —  when  I 
stared  at  you  so  stupidly  at  Captain  Keeler's  —  when  I 
went  up  to  borrow  the  oars,  and  you  were  engaged,  you 
remember,"  said  Mr.  Rollin,  laughing  gently,  "  in  wrest- 
ing particles  of  hulled  corn  from  the  ocean  depths  of 
that  kettle." 

"  I  remember,"  I  said,  trying  to  smother  what  annoy- 
ance I  still  felt  at  the  recollection.  "  I  admit  that  it 
was  a  very  striking  scene.  It  was  very  good,"  I  added, 
religiously,  referring  to  the  corn.  Mr.  Rollin  ought  to 
know,  I  thought,  that  I  had  come  to  Wallencamp  on  a 
mission,  and  that  if  he  wished  to  scoff  at  the  ways  of  its 
defenceless  inhabitants,  he  shouldn't  look  to  find  a  con- 
fidante in  me. 

"  The  hulled  corn  ?  Oh  !  yes,  indeed  !  "  he  answered 
with  a  sprightly  air.  "  We  have  it  served  in  the  same 
way  at  Emily's,  and  we  think  it's  just  —  a  —  rich,  you 
know.  But  I  wanted  to  tell  you.  If  you  could  have 
known  how  confoundedly  struck  up  I  was  when  I  went 
into  the  Ark  that  night,  you  wouldn't  think  it  so  strange 
my  standing  staring  there  like  a  fool.  You  see  we  fel- 
lows, picking  up  everything  of  interest  down  here  to 
amuse  ourselves  with,  heard  that  there  was  a  new  school- 
teacher coming,  so  we  gave  our  imaginations  free  rein. 
We  were  laughing  it  over  among  ourselves,  and  Smith 
said,  '  she'd  probably  have  hair  like  Roliin's,'  and  Jake 
said  '  she'd  wear  spectacles,  and  have  a  nose  like  the 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  89 

Clipper  in  the  Three  Fates,'  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
So  I  went  up  that  night  to  see,  just  for  the  deuce  of  it, 
and  not  to  get  the  oars  at  all,  and  I  was  deucedly  well 
paid  for  it,  too.  In  fact,  Miss  Hungerford,"  said  the 
fisherman,  darting  a  keen  glance  at  me  from  his  laughing 
eyes,  "  I  did  go  up  to  scoff,  but  I  remained  to  pray." 

My  ears  had  never  been  conscientiously  closed  to  the 
voice  of  idle  praise,  but  with  this,  for  some  reason,  I  was 
not  well  pleased. 

"  Your  attitude  was  certainly  devotional,"  I  answered, 
without  haste.  "Your  friend,"  I  added,  "must  be 
something  of  a  seer.  Here  are  the  literal  glasses  !  " 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  Mr.  Rollin,  coloring  slightly ; 
"  you  know  I  didn't  mean  that  —  just  being  a  little  near- 
sighted. I  said  spectacles.  Besides,"  and  the  fisher- 
man looked  me  full  and  unblushingly  in  the  face —  "  if  I 
had  such  eyes  as  yours,  by  Jove,  I  wouldn't  mind  whether 
I  could  see  anything  out  of  'em  or  not ! " 

"  You  will  hardly  expect  me  to  thank  you  for  that," 
I  murmured,  with  a  sincere  flash  of  indignation ;  not 
that  I  was  unmindful  of  certain  reckless  moods  of  old, 
when  I  had  found  it  not  impossible  to  listen,  even  with 
calmness,  to  vain  demonstrations  of  this  sort,  but  I  felt 
that  I  was  a  different  person  now,  in  a  different  sphere 
of  action. 

Mr.  Rollin  knew  nothing  of  me  except  that  I  was  the 
teacher  of  the  Wallencamp  school  —  a  doubtful  position 
to  his  mind. 

He  fancied  that  he  might  "  pick  me  up,"  to  "  amuse  '"' 
himself  with,  I  thought,  and  at  the  reflection  I  felt  an 
angry  glow  rising  from  heart  to  cheek. 

Meanwhile  the  fisherman  gnawed  his  moustache  rue- 


90  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

fully.  This  idle  worldling  could  assume,  occasionally, 
a  whimsical  helplessness  of  expression,  with  an  air  of 
aggrieved  and  childlike  candor,  somewhat  baffling  to  the 
stern  designs  of  justice. 

"  Now  I've  offended  you,"  he  began,  exchanging  his 
tone  of  easy  nonchalance  for  one  of  slow  and  awkward 
dejection.  "  And  you  think  I've  had  the  impudence  — 
well,  if  either  one  of  us  two  is  going  to  be  taken  in,  Miss 
Hungerford,  I  can  tell  you  it's  a  blamed  sight  more  likely 
to  be  me  ;  but  you're  prejudiced  against  me,  I  can  see. 
You  were  prejudiced  against  me  that  first  night.  I  know 
how  those  old  women  talk.  They've  got  an  idea,  some- 
how, that  I'm  a  scapegrace,  and  a  desperate  character. 
And,  on  my  word,  Miss  Hungerford,  I'm  considered 
a  real  model  chap  there  at  home,  and  make  speeches  to 
the  little  boys  and  girls  in  Sunday  School,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing.  On  my  word,  I  do." 

Mr.  Rollin  spoke  quite  warmly.  I  could  not  help 
laughing  at  his  droll  self-vindication. 

"  I  should  like  to  ask  you  to  speak  to  my  little  boys 
and  girls  !  "  I  said  ;  "  but  it's  too  harrowing  to  the  feel- 
ings. I  listened  to  one  address  this  afternoon." 

"  The  '  Turkey  Mogul  ? '  Oh,  that  isn't  my  style  !  " 
said  Mr.  Rollin.  "  I  don't  sear  their  young  vision  with 
the  prospect  of  eternal  flames.  I  entice  them  with  the 
blandishments  of  future  reward.  Let  me  go  in  some 
day,  and  I  promise  you  in  one  brief  half  hour  to  destroy 
the  cankering  effect  of  all  that  the  '  Turkey  Mogul '  has 
ever  said.  At  least,  I  shall  serve  as  an  antidote  —  a 
cheerful  and  allaying  antidote  to  the  wormwood  of  cen- 
sorious criticism." 

Thus  the  voluble  fisherman  ran  on,  with  an  air  of  sim- 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  91 

pie  and  charming  ingenuousness  ;  while  I  reflected  that 
here  possibly  was  a  light  and  aimless  creature  whom 
I  had  mentally  convicted  of  ungracious  designs,  that, 
although  his  presence  in  Wallencamp,  as  a  representative 
of  the  great  world  I  believed  I  had  left  behind  me,  was 
rather  mal  a  propos,  it  might  be  that  I  ought  to  consider 
him  providentially  included  in  my  field  of  labor,  and  as 
one  of  the  objects  of  my  regenerating  care. 

Whether  Mr.  Rollin  detected  anything  of  this  philan- 
thropic intention  I  do  not  know.  When  we  got  to  the 
gate  he  said  :  — 

"  Will  you  go  with  me  for  a  drive  to-morrow,  Miss 
Hungerford  ?  You  know  what  the  Wallencamp  equipages 
are.  They  furnish  entertainment,  at  all  events.  The 
drive  to  West  Wallen  is  really  beautiful — even  at  this 
season  of  the  year,  with  such  uncommonly  fine  weather, 
and  you  have  a  holiday,  and  the  mail  hasn't  been  brought 
from  West  Wallen  for  nearly  a  week." 

I  thanked  the  fisherman  almost  eagerly,  thinking, 
at  that  instant,  of  the  longed-for  letters  that  I  knew  were 
waiting  for  me  in  the  West  Wallen  Post  Office. 

Then,  suddenly,  I  felt  Rebecca's  little  note  grow  heavy 
in  my  hand. 

To  act  voluntarily  for  others —  to  consider  as  serious 
any  obstacles  in  the  way  of  following  out  my  personal 
inclinations  —  these  were  experiences  too  new  to  me, 
and  my  resolve  was  not  a  natural  one,  but  forced  and 
impatient. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  I  said ;  "  but  I  can't  go 
to-morrow." 

The  two  little  Keelers  came  running  out  of  the  Ark  to 
meet  me.  I  was  secretly  relieved.  Mr.  Rollin  had  been 


92 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


watching  me  narrowly  ;  his  lips  curled,  and  his  eyes 
flashed  with  a  half  angry,  half  scornful  light.  He  cast 
an  unloving  glance  at  the  little  Keelers. 

"  I  can't,  of  course,  question  the  justice  of  your 
decision,"  he  said  shortly,  and  touched  his  hat  and 
walked  away  without  another  word. 

I  considered  this  as  one  of  the  least  among  my  many 
trials  and  perplexities.  Oftentimes  I  sighed  for  the 
light-hearted,  "  irresponsible  "  days  of  yore,  when  "  mis- 
sions "  were,  as  yet,  to  me  unknown. 

School  was  the  greatest  perplexity.  Grandma  Keeler's 
tenderness  grew  more  impressive  each  day. 

"  It  seems  to  me  you're  a  growin'  bleak  and  holler- 
eyed,  teacher,"  she  would  say  to  me  when  I  came  home 
at  night. 

So  I  indulged  more  and  more  in  a  deeply  sentimental 
self-pity,  and  felt  a  growing  satisfaction  in  the  conscious- 
ness that  I  was  enduring  martyrdom.  It  was  more  by 
reason  of  a  stubborn  and  desperate  pride,  I  think,  than 
from  higher  motives,  that,  in  my  letters  home,  I  said 
nothing  of  the  discomforts  and  discouragements 
which  attended  my  course.  I  chose  to  dilate  on  the 
beautiful  scenery  of  Wallencamp,  and  the  quaint  origi- 
nality of  its  inhabitants. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


93 


CHAPTER    V. 

GRANDMA    KEELER    GETS    GRANDPA    READY    FOR    SUNDAY 
SCHOOL. 

UNDAY   morning   nothing   arose    in  Wallen- 
camp  save  the  sun. 

At  least,  that  celestial  orb  had  long  forgotten 
all  the  roseate  flaming  of  his  youth,  in  an  honest,  straight- 
forward march  through  the  heavens,  ere  the  first  signs 
of  smoke  came  curling  lazily  up  from  the  Wallencamp 
chimneys. 

I  had  retired  at  night,  very  weary,  with  the  delicious 
consciousness  that  it  wouldn't  make  any  difference  when 
I  woke  up  the  next  morning,  or  whether,  indeed.  I  woke  at 
all.  So  I  opened  my  eyes  leisurely  and  lay  half-dream- 
ing, half-meditating  on  a  variety  of  things. 

I  deciphered  a  few  of  the  texts  on  the  scriptural  patch- 
work quilt  which  covered  my  couch.  There  were  — 
"  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled,"  "  Remember  Lot's 
wife,"  and  "  Philander  Keeler,"  traced  in  inky  hiero- 
glyphics, all  in  close  conjunction. 

Finally,  I  reached  out  for  my  watch,  and,  having 
ascertained  the  time  of  day,  I  got  up  and  proceeded  to 
dress  hastily  enough,  wondering  to  hear  no  signs  of  life 
in  the  house. 

I  went  noiselessly  down  the  stairs.  All  was  silent 
below,  except  for  the  peaceful  snoring  of  Mrs.  Philander 


94  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

and  the  little  Keelers,  which  was  responded  to  from 
some  remote  western  corner  of  the  Ark  by  the  triumph- 
ant snores  of  Grandma  and  Grandpa  Keeler. 

I  attempted  to  kindle  a  fire  in  the  stove,  but  it  sizzled 
a  little  while,  spitefully,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  What,  Sun- 
day morning  ?  Not  I !  "  and  went  out.  So  I  concluded 
to  put  on  some  wraps  and  go  out  and  warm  myself  in 
the  sun. 

I  climbed  the  long  hill  back  of  the  Ark,  descended, 
and  walked  along  the  bank  of  the  river.  It  was  a  beau- 
tiful morning.  The  air  was  —  everything  that  could  be 
desired  in  the  way  of  air,  but  I  felt  a  desperate  need  of 
something  more  substantial. 

Standing  alone  with  nature,  on  the  bank  of  the  lovely 
river,  I  thought,  with  tears  in  my  eyes,  of  the  delicious 
breakfast  already  recuperating  the  exhausted  energies 
of  my  far-away  home  friends. 

When  I  got  back  to  the  house,  Mrs.  Philander,  in 
simple  and  unaffected  attire,  was  bustling  busily  about 
the  stove. 

The  snores  from  Grandma  and  Grandpa's  quarter 
had  ceased,  signifying  that  they,  also,  had  advanced  a 
stage  in  the  grand  processes  of  Sunday  morning. 

The  children  came  teasing  me  to  dress  them,  so  I 
fastened  for  them  a  variety  of  small  articles  which  1 
flattered  myself  on  having  combined  in  a  very  ingenious 
and  artistic  manner,  though  I  believe  those  infant  Keel- 
ers went  weeping  to  Gran  ima  afterwards,  and  were  re- 
modelled by  her  all-comforting  hand  with  much  skill 
and  patience. 

In  the  midst  of  her  preparations  for  breakfast,  Made- 
line abruptly  assumed  her  hat  and  shawl,  and  was  seen 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  95 

from  the  window,  walking  leisurely  across  the  fields  in 
the  direction  of  the  woods.  She  returned  in  due  time, 
bearing  an  armful  of  fresh  evergreens,  which  she  twisted 
around  the  family  register. 

When  the  ancient  couple  made  their  appearance,  I 
remarked  silently,  in  regard  to  Grandma  Keeler's  hair, 
what  proved  afterward  to  be  its  usual  holiday  morning 
arrangement.  It  was  confined  in  six  infinitesimal 
braids  which  appeared  to  be  sprouting  out,  perpendic- 
ularly, in  all  directions  from  her  head.  The  effect  of 
redundancy  and  expansiveness  thus  heightened  and 
increased  on  Grandma's  features  was  striking  in  the 
extreme. 

While  we  were  eating  breakfast,  that  good  soul  ob- 
served to  Grandpa  Keeler :  "  Wall,  pa,  I  suppose 
you'll  be  all  ready  when  the  time  comes  to  take  teacher 
and  me  over  to  West  Wallen  to  Sunday  school,  won't 
ye  ? " 

Grandpa  coughed,  and  coughed  again,  and  raised  his 
eyes  helplessly  to  the  window. 

"Looks  some  like  showers,"  said  he.  "A-hem!  a- 
hem  !  Looks  mightily  to  me  like  showers,  over  yonder." 

"  Thar',  r'aly,  husband !  I  must  say  I  feel  mortified 
for  ye,"  said  Grandma.  "  Seein'  as  )-ou're  a  professor, 
too,  and  thar'  ain't  been  a  single  Sunday  mornin'  since 
I've  lived  with  ye,  pa,  summer  or  winter,  but  what  you've 
seen  showers,  and  it  r'aly  seems  to  me  it's  dreadful  in- 
consistent when  thar'  ain't  no  cloud  in  the  sky,  and  don't 
look  no  more  like  rain  than  I  do."  And  Grandma's 
face,  in  spite  of  her  reproachful  tones,  was,  above  all, 
blandly  sunlike  and  expressive  of  anything  rather  than 
deluge  and  watery  disaster. 


96  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

Grandpa  was  silent  a  little  while,  then  coughed  again. 
I  had  never  seen  Grandpa  in  worse  straits. 

"  A-hem !  a-hem  !  '  Fanny '  seems  to  be  a  little  lame, 
this  mornin',"  said  he.  "I  shouldn't  wonder.  She's 
been  goin'  pretty  stiddy  this  week." 

"  It  does  beat  all,  pa,"  continued  Grandma  Keeler, 
"how  't  all  the  horses  you've  ever  had  since  I've  known 
ye  have  always  been  took  lame  Sunday  mornin'.  Thar' 
was  '  Happy  Jack,'  he  could  go  anywhers  through  the 
week,  and  never  limp  a  step,  as  nobody  could  see,  and 
Sunday  mornin'  he  was  always  took  lame  !  And  thar' 
was  '  Tantrum' " 

"  Tantrum  "  was  the  horse  that  had  run  away  with 
Grandma  when  she  was  thrown  from  the  wagon,  and 
generally  smashed  to  pieces.  And  now,  Grandma 
branched  off  into  the  thrilling  reminiscences  connected 
with  this  incident  of  her  life,  which  was  the  third  time 
during  the  week  that  the  horrible  tale  had  been  repeated 
for  my  delectation. 

When  she  had  finished,  Grandpa  shook  his  head  with 
painful  earnestness,  reverting  to  the  former  subject  of 
discussion. 

"  It's  a  lonj  jaunt !  "  said  he  ;  "a  long  jaunt !  " 

"  Thar's  a  long  hill  to  climb  before  we  reach  Zion's 
mount,"  said  Grandma  Keeler,  impressively. 

"  Wall,  there's  a  darned  sight  harder  one  on  the  road 
to  West  Wallen  !  "  burst  out  the  old  sea-captain  despe- 
rately; "say  nothin'  about  the  devilish  stones  !  " 

"  Thar'  now,"  said  Grandma,  with  calm  though  awful 
reproof ;  "  I  th  ink  we've  gone  fur  enough  for  one  day ; 
we've  broke  the  Sabbath,  and  took  the  name  of  the 
Lord  in  vain,  and  that  ought  to  be  enough  for  per- 
fessors." 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


97 


Grandpa  replied  at  length  in  a  greatly  subdued  tone : 
u  Wall,  if  you  and  the  teacher  want  to  go  over  to  Sun- 
day school  to-day,  I  suppose  we  can  go  if  we  get  ready," 
a  long  submissive  sigh  —  "  I  suppose  we  can." 

"  They  have  preachin'  service  in  the  mornin',  I  sup- 
pose," said  Grandma.  "  But  we  don't  generally  git 
along  to  that.  It  makes  such  an  early  start.  We  gen- 
erally try  to  get  around,  when  we  go,  in  time  for  Sun- 
day school.  They  have  singin'  and  all.  It's  just  about 
as  interestin',  I  think,  as  preachin'.  The  old  man 
ra'ly  likes  it,"  she  observed  aside  to  me  ;  "  when  he 
once  gets  started,  but  he  kind  o'  dreads  the  gittin' 
started." 

When  I  beheld  the  ordeal  through  which  Grandpa 
Keeler  was  called  to  pass,  at  the  hands  of  his  faithful 
consort,  before  he  was  considered  in  a  fit  condition  of 
mind  and  body  to  embark  for  the  sanctuary,  I  marvelled 
not  at  the  old  man's  reluctance,  nor  that  he  had  indeed 
seen  clouds  and  tempest  fringing  the  horizon. 

Immediately  after  breakfast,  he  set  out  for  the  barn, 
ostensibly  to  "  see  to  the  chores  ;  "  really,  I  believe,  to 
obtain  a  few  moments'  respite,  before  worse  evil  should 
come  upon  him. 

Pretty  soon  Grandma  was  at  the  back  door  calling  in 
firm  though  persuasive  tones  :  — 

"  Husband !  husband  !  come  in,  now,  and  get  ready." 

No  answer.  Then  it  was  in  another  key,  weighty, 
yet  expressive  of  no  weak  irritation,  that  Grandma 
called  "  Come,  pa  !  pa-a  !  pa-a-a  !  "  Still  no  answer. 

Then  that  voice  of  Grandma's  sung  out  like  a  trumpet, 
terrible  with  meaning —  "  Bijonah  Keeler !  " 

But  Grandpa  appeared  not.     Next.  I  saw  Grandma 


98  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

slowly  but  surely  gravitating  in  the  direction  of  the  barn, 
and  soon  she  returned,  bringing  with  her  that  anciem 
delinquent,  who  looked  like  a  lost  sheep  indeed  and  a 
truly  unreconciled  one. 

"  Now  the  first  thing,"  said  Grandma,  looking  her 
forlorn  captive  over  ;  "  is  boots,  Go  and  get  on  yer 
rneetin'  gaiters,  pa." 

The  old  gentleman,  having  invested  himself  with  those 
sacred  relics,  came  pathetically  limping  into  the  room. 

"  I  declare,  ma,"  said  he ;  "  somehow  these  things  — 
phew !  Somehow  they  pinch  my  feet  dreadfully.  I 
don't  know  what  it  is,  —  phew  !  They're  dreadful 
oncomftable  things  somehow." 

"  Since  I've  known  ye,  pa,"  solemnly  ejaculated 
Grandma  Keeler,  "  you've  never  had  a  pair  o'  meetin' 
boots  that  set  easy  on  yer  feet.  You'd  ought  to  get 
boots  big  enough  for  ye,  pa,"  she  continued  looking 
down  disapprovingly  on  the  old  gentleman's  pedal 
extremities,  which  resembled  two  small  scows  at  anchor 
in  black  cloth  encasements :  "  and  not  be  so  proud  as 
to  go  to  pinchin'  yer  feet  into  gaiters  a  number  o'  sizes 
too  small  for  ye." 

"  They're  number  tens,  I  tell  ye  !  "  roared  Grandpa 
nettled  outrageously  by  this  cutting  taunt. 

"  Wall,  thar',  now,  pa,"  said  Grandma,  soothingly  ;  "  if 
I  had  sech  feet  as  that,  I  wouldn't  go  to  spreadin'  it  all 
over  town,  if  I  was  you  —  but  it's  time  we  stopped 
bickerin'  now,  husband,  and  got  ready  for  meetin' ;  so 
set  down  and  let  me  wash  yer  head." 

"  I've  washed  once  this  mornin'.  It's  clean  enough," 
Grandpa  protested,  but  in  vain.  He  was  planted  in  a 
chair,  and  Grandma  Keeler,  with  rag  and  soap  and  a 


PHEW!     LORDY  !     AIN'T  YOU   MOST  T  HROUGH,   MA  ?"      Page  99 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  99 

basin  of  water,  attacked  the  old  gentleman  vigorously, 
much  as  I  have  seen  cruel  mothers  wash  the  faces  of 
their  earth-begrimed  infants.  He  only  gave  expression 
to  such  groans  as  :  — 

"  Thar',  ma !  don't  tear  my  ears  to  pieces !  Come, 
ma !  you've  got  my  eyes  so  full  o'  soap  now,  ma,  that  I 
can't  see  nothin'.  Phew  !  Lordy  !  ain't  ye  most  through 
with  this,  ma  ? " 

Then  came  the  dyeing  process,  which  Grandma 
Keeler  assured  me,  aside,  made  Grandpa  "  look  like  a 
man  o'  thirty :  "  but  to  me,  after  it  he  looked  neither  old 
nor  young,  human  nor  inhuman,  nor  like  anything  that 
I  had  ever  seen  before  under  the  sun. 

There's  the  lotion,  the  potion,  the  dye-er,  and  the 
setter,"  said  Grandma,  pointing  to  four  bottles' on  the 
table.  "  Now  whar's  the  directions,  Madeline  ? " 

These  having  been  produced  from  between  the  leaves 
of  the  family  Bible,  Madeline  read,  while  Grandma  made 
a  vigorous  practical  application  of  the  various  mixtures. 

"  This  admirable  lotion  "  —  in  soft  ecstatic  tones  Mad- 
eline rehearsed  the  flowery  language  of  the  recipe  — 
"  though  not  so  instantaneously  startling  in  its  effect  as ' 
our  inestimable  dyer  and  setter,  yet  forms  a  most  essen- 
tial part  of  the  whole  process,  opening,  as  it  does,  the 
dry  and  lifeless  pores  of  the  scalp,  imparting  to  them 
new  life  and  beauty,  and  rendering  them  more  easily 
susceptible  to  the  applications  which  follow.  But  we 
must  go  deeper  than  this ;  a  tone  must  be  given  to  the 
whole  system  by  means  of  the  cleansing  and  rejuvenat- 
ing of  the  very  centre  of  our  beings,  and,  for  this  purpose, 
we  have  prepared  our  wonderful  potion."  Here  Grandpa, 
with  a  wry  face,  was  made  to  swallow  a  spoonful  of  the 


1 00  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

mixture.  "  Our  unparalleled  dyer,"  Madeline  continued, 
"  restores  black  hair  to  a  more  than  original  gloss  and 
brilliancy,  and  gives  to  the  faded  golden  tress  the  sunny 
flashes  of  youth."  Grandpa  was  dyed.  "  Our  world- 
renowned  setter  completes  and  perfects  the  whole  pro- 
cess by  adding  tone  and  permanency  to  the  efficacious 
qualities  of  the  lotion,  potion,  and  dyer,  etc. ;  "  while  on 
Grandpa's  head  the  unutterable  dye  was  set. 

"  Now,  read  teacher  some  of  the  testimonials,  daugh- 
ter," said  Grandma  Keeler,  whose  face  was  one  broad, 
generous  illustration  of  that  rare  and  peculiar  virtue 
called  faith. 

So  Madeline  continued :  "  Mrs.  Hiram  Briggs,  ot 
North  Dedham,  writes  :  '  I  was  terribly  afflicted  with 
baldness,  so  that,  for  months,  I  was  little  more  than  an 
outcast  from  society,  and  an  object  of  pity  to  my  most 
familiar  friends.  I  tried  every  remedy  in  vain.  At 
length  I  heard  of  your  wonderful  restorative.  After  a 
week's  application,  my  hair  had  already  begun  to  grow 
in  what  seemed  the  most  miraculous  manner.  At  the 
end  of  ten  months,  it  had  assumed  such  length  and  pro- 
portions as  to  be  a  most  luxurious  burden,  and  where  I 
had  before  been  regarded  with  pity  and  aversion,  I 
became  the  envied  and  admired  of  all  beholders." 

"  Just  think  !  "  said  Grandma  Keeler,  with  rapturous 
sympathy  and  gratitude,  "  how  that  poor  creetur  must 
a'  felt ! " 

" '  Orion  Spaulding  of  Weedsville,  Vermont,'  "  Mad- 
eline went  on  —  but,  here,  I  had  to  beg  to  be  excused, 
and  went  to  my  room  to  get  ready  for  the  Sunday 
school. 

When  I  came  down  again,  Grandpa  Keeler  was  seated, 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  IOI 

completely  arrayed  in  his  best  clothes,  opposite  Grandma, 
who  held  the  big  family  Bible  in  her  lap,  and  a  Sunday- 
school  question  book  in  one  hand. 

"  Now,  pa,"  said  she ;  "  what  tribe  was  it  in  sacred 
writ  that  wore  bunnits  ?  " 

I  was  compelled  to  infer  from  the  tone  of  Grandpa 
Keeler's  answer  that  his  temper  had  not  undergone  a 
mollifying  process  during  my  absence. 

"  Come,  ma,"  said  he ;  "  how  much  longer  ye  goin'  to 
pester  me  in  this  way  ? " 

"  Why,  pa,"  Grandma  rejoined  calmly  ;  "  until  you 
git  a  proper  understandin'  of  it.  What  tribe  was  it  in 
sacred  writ  that  wore  bunnits  ?  " 

"  Lordy !  "  exclaimed  the  old  man.  "  How  d'ye  sup- 
pose I  know  !  They  must  'a'  been  a  tarnal  old  womanish 
lookin'  set  any  way." 

"The  tribe  o'  Judah,  pa,"  said  Grandma,  gravely. 
"  Now,  how  good  it  is,  husband,  to  have  your  under- 
standin' all  freshened  up  on  the  scripters  !  " 

"  Come,  come,  ma !  "  said  Grandpa,  rising  nervously^ 
"  It's  time  we  was  startin'.  When  I  make  up  my  mind 
to  go  anywhere  I  always  want  to  git  there  in  time.  If 
I  was  goin'  to  the  Old  Harry,  I  should  want  to  git  there 
in  time." 

"  It's  my  consarn  that  we  shall  git  thar'  before  time, 
some  on  us,"  said  Grandma,  with  sad  meaning,  "  unless 
we  larn  to  use  more  respec'ful  language." 

I  shall  never  forget  how  we  set  off  for  church  that 
Sabbath  morning,  way  out  at  one  of  the  sunny  back  doors 
of  the  Ark  :  for  there  was  Madeline's  little  cottage  that 
fronted  the  highway,  or  lane,  and  then  there  was  a  long 
backward  extension  of  the  Ark,  only  one  story  in 


I02  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

height.  This  belonged  peculiarly  to  Grandma  and 
Grandpa  Keeler.  It  contained  the  "  parlor  "  and  three 
"  keepin' "  rooms  opening  one  into  the  other,  all  of  the 
same  size  and  general  bare  and  gloomy  appearance,  all 
possessing  the  same  sacredly  preserved  atmosphere, 
through  which  we  passed  with  becoming  silence  and 
solemnity  into  the  "  end "  room,  the  sunny  kitchen 
where  Grandma  and  Grandpa  kept  house  by  themselves 
in  the  summer  time,  and  there  at  the  door,  her  very 
yellow  coat  reflecting  the  rays  of  the  sun,  stood  Fanny, 
presenting  about  as  much  appearance  of  life  and  ani- 
mation as  a  pensive  summer  squash. 

The  carriage,  I  thought,  was  a  fac-simile  of  the  one  in 
which  I  had  been  brought  from  West  Wallen  on  the 
night  of  my  arrival.  One  of  the  most  striking  peculiar- 
ities of  this  sort  of  vehicle  was  the  width  at  which  the 
wheels  were  set  apart.  The  body  seemed  comparatively- 
narrow.  It  was  very  long,  and  covered  with  white  can- 
vas. It  had  neither  windows  nor  doors,  but  just  the 
one  guarded  opening  in  front.  There  were  no  steps 
leading  to  this,  and,  indeed,  a  variety  of  obstacles  be- 
fore it.  And  the  way  Grandma  effected  an  entrance 
was  to  put  a  chair  on  a  mound  of  earth,  and  a  cricket 
on  top  of  the  chair,  and  thus,  having  climbed  up  to  Fan- 
ny's reposeful  back,  she  slipped  passively  down,  feet 
foremost,  to  the  whiffle-tree  ;  from  thence  she  easily 
gained  the  plane  of  the  carriage  floor. 

Grandpa  and  I  took  a  less  circuitous,  though,  per- 
haps, not  less  difficult  route. 

I  sat  with  Grandpa  on  the  "front "  seat — it  may  be 
remarked  that  the  "front"  seat  was  very  much  front, 
and  the  "  back  "  seat  very  much  back  —  there  was  a 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


103 


kind  of  wooden  shelf  built  outside  as  a  resting-place  for 
the  feet,  so  that  while  our  heads  were  under  cover,  our 
feet  were  out,  utterly  exposed  to  the  weather,  and  we 
must  either  lay  them  on  the  shelf  or  let  them  hang  off 
into  space. 

Madeline  and  the  children  stood  at  the  door  to  see 
us  off. 

"  All  aboard  !  ship  ballasted  !  wind  fa'r !  go  ahead, 
thar',  Fanny  ! "  shouted  Grandpa,  who  seemed  quite  re- 
stored in  spirits,  and  held  the  reins  and  wielded  the 
whip  with  a  masterful  air. 

He  spun  sea-yarns,  too,  all  the  way — marvellous  ones, 
and  Grandma's  reproving  voice  was  mellowed  by  the 
distance,  and  so  confusedly  mingled  with  the  rumbling 
of  the  wheels,  that  it  seemed  hardly  to  reach  him  at  all. 
Not  that  Grandma  looked  discomfited  on  this  account, 
or  in  bad  humor.  On  the  contrary,  as  she  sat  back 
there  in  the  ghostly  shadows,  with  her  hands  folded,  and 
her  hair  combed  out  in  resplendent  waves  on  either  side 
of  her  head,  she  appeared  conscious  that  every  word 
she  uttered  was  taking  root  in  some  obdurate  heart. 
She  was,  in  every  respect,  the  picture  of  good-will  and 
contentment. 

But  the  face  under  Grandpa's  antiquated  beaver  began 
to  give  me  a  fresh  shock  every  time  I  looKed  up  at  him, 
for  the  light  and  air  were  rapidly  turning  his  rejuvenated 
locks  and  his  poor,  thin  fringe  of  whiskers  to  an  unnat- 
ural greenish  tint,  while  his  bushy  eyebrows,  untouched 
by  the  hand  of  art,  shone  as  white  as  ever. 

In  spite  of  the  old  sea-captain's  entertaining  stories, 
it  seemed,  indeed,  "  a  long  jaunt "  to  West  Wallen. 

To  say  that  Fanny  was  a  slow  horse  would  be  but  a 
feeble  expression  of  the  truth. 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


cock!  dick !  ™  began  to  arise 


from  Grandma's  <pmln.  Tins  annoyed  Grandpa  ex- 
;-!.-_:/  . 

-Shet  up,  ma!"  be  was  moved  to  exclaim  at  last. 
^  I'm  steerin*  dus  craft." 

*"  Click  I    c&ck!    dick!"  cane    perserenngiy  from. 


ma!  AM*,  ma!  "died  Grandpa,  exasperated 
beyond  •umuc.     "  Hov  is  this  boss  gain'  to  h&jujmy- 
that  I  say  ef  yon  keep  op  such  a  iaiiial  cack- 


Justaswe  wexe  comiog  out  of  the  thickest  part  of 
the  woods,  abort  a  mifc  beyond  WalkiKamp,  we  dbcoir- 
•  Ac  «lislanrr.    It  was  the  only 

-Hnflo,  Acre's  Lotdl!0  i  »  1  ••in!  Grandpa.  "I 
was  woodenn'  why  we  hadn't  overtook  hint  before. 
We  gpn'aDf  lake  him  in  on  the  road.  **  Yis>  yb; 
doA  lovefl,  am'tk,  teacher?" 

I  pwt  «p  my  glasses,  helplessly. 

T«i  sure,"  I  said,  "I  can't  tefl,  pu&ianJj.  I  bane 
seen  ME.  Baiiow  but  once,  and  at  that  dtsTanrr  I 
shouldn't  know  niy  own  father." 

-Must  be  Lorcfl,"  said  Grandpa.  "Vis,  I  know 
bmm!  Hnflo,  dux7!  Ship  ahoy  !  ship  aboy  I" 

Cjrandpa  s  Toice  sos&cested  sowtetiHnjr  of  f™^  fire  ?^^f 
vigor  it  nwxst  bare  bad  when  it  rang  out  a***n**'  the 
foam  of  ajBts  ami  UM  iced  the  tempest's  roar. 

The  man  turned  and  looked  at  us,  and  then  went  on 
i_-;  - 

-  He  don't  seem  to  reoguize  us,"  said  Grandma. 

-Smp*hoy!    Ship  a-hoy  !  "  sbooted  Grandpa. 


THE  Him  TURNED 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


105 


The  man  turned  and  looked  at  us  again,  and  this 
time  he  stopped  and  kept  on  looking. 

When  we  got  up  to  him  we  saw  that  it  wasn't  Lovell 
Barlow  at  all,  but  a  stranger  of  trampish  appearance, 
drunk  and  fiery,  and  fixed  in  an  aggressive  attitude. 

I  was  naturally  terrified.  What  if  he  should  attack 
us  in  that  lonely  spot !  Grandpa  was  so  old  !  And 
moreover,  Grandpa  was  so  taken  aback  to  find  that  it 
wasn't  Lovell  that  he  began  some  blunt  and  stammering 
expression  of  surprise,  which  only  served  to  increase 
the  stranger's  ire.  Grandma,  imperturbable  soul !  who 
never  failed  to  come  to  the  rescue  even  in  the  most 
desperate  emergencies  —  Grandma  climbed  over  to  the 
front,  thrust  out  her  benign  head,  and  said  in  that  deep, 
calm  voice  of  hers  :  — 

"  We're  a  goin'  to  the  house  of  God,  brother ;  won't 
you  git  in  and  go  too  ? " 

"  No !  "  our  brother  replied,  doubling  up  his  fists  and 
shaking  them  menacingly  in  our  faces :  "  I  won't  go 
to  no  house  o'  God.  What  d'ye  mean  by  overhauling 

me  on  the  road,  and  askin'  me  to  git  into  yer  d d 

old  travelling  lunatic  asylum  ? " 

"  Drive  on,  pa,"  said  Grandma,  coldly  :  "  He  ain't 
in  no  condition  to  be  labored  with  now.  Drive  on  kind 
o'  quick ! " 

'  Kind  o'  quick'  we  could  not  go,  but  Fanny  was 
made  to  do  her  best,  and  we  did  not  pause  to  look 
behind, 

When  we  got  to  the  church,  Sunday-school  had 
already  begun.  There  was  Lovell  Barlow  looking  pre- 
ternaturally  stiff  in  his  best  clothes,  sitting  with  a  class 
of  young  men.  He  saw  us  when  we  came  in,  and  gave 


I06  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

me  a  look  of  deep  meaning.  It  was  the  same  expres- 
sion—as though  there  was  some  liolemn,  mutual  under- 
standing between  us  —  which  he  had  worn  on  that  night 
when  he  gave  me  his  picture. 

"There's  plenty  of  young  folks'  classes,"  said  Grand- 
ma ;  "  but  seein'  as  we're  late  maybe  you'd  jest  as  soon 
go  right  along  in  with  us." 

I  said  that  I  should  like  that  best,  so  I  went  into  the 
"  old  folks'  "  class  with  Grandma  and  Grandpa  Keeler. 

There  were  three  pews  of  old  people  in  front  of  us, 
and  the  teacher,  who  certainly  seemed  to  me  the  oldest 
person  I  had  ever  seen,  sat  in  an  otherwise  vacant  pew 
in  front  of  all,  so  that,  his  voice  being  very  thin  and 
querulous,  we  could  hear  very  little  that  he  said,  although 
we  were  edified  in  some  faint  sense  by  his  pious  manner 
of  shaking  his  head  and  rolling  his  eyes  toward  the 
ceiling. 

The  church  was  a  square  wooden  edifice,  of  medium 
size,  and  contained  three  stoves  all  burning  brightly. 
Against  this,  and  the  drowsy  effect  of  their  long  drive  in 
the  sun  and  wind,  my  two  companions  proved  powerless 
to  struggle. 

Grandpa  looked  furtively  up  at  Grandma,  then 
endeavored  to  put  on  as  a  sort  of  apology  for  what  he 
felt  was  inevitably  coming,  a  sanctimonious  expression 
which  was  most  unnatural  to  him,  and  which  soon  faded 
away  as  the  sweet  unconsciousness  of  slumber  overspread 
his  features.  His  head  fell  back  helplessly,  his  mouth 
opened  wide.  He  snored,  but  not  very  loudly.  I  looked 
at  Grandma,  wondering  why  her  vigilance  had  failed  on 
this  occasion,  and  lo  !  her  head  was  falling  peacefully 
from  side  to  side.  She  was  fast  asleep,  too.  She  woke 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


lO/ 


up  first,  however,  and  then  Grandpa  was  speedily  and 
adroitly  aroused  by  some  means,  I  think  it  was  a  pin ; 
and  Grandma  fed  him  with  bits  of  unsweetened  flag-root 
which  he  munched  penitently,  though  evidently  without 
relish,  until  he  dropped  off  to  sleep  again,  and  she. 
dropped  off  to  sleep  again,  and  so  they  continued. 

But  it  always  happened  that  Grandma  woke  up  first. 
And  whereas  Grandpa,  when  the  avenging  pin  pierced 
his  shins,  recovered  himself  with  a  start  and  an  air  of 
guilty  confusion,  Grandma  opened  her  eyes  at  regular 
intervals,  with  the  utmost  calm  and  placidity,  as  though 
she  had  merely  been  closing  them  to  engage  in  a  few 
moments  of  silent  prayer. 

Our  class  occupied  an  humble  place  in  the  sanctuary, 
near  the  door.  Behind  the  pew  in  which  Grandma, 
Grandpa,  and  I  were  sitting  there  was  one  more  vacant. 
Presently  the  door  opened,  admitting  a  delightful  waft 
of  fresh  air,  and  some  one  entered  that  pew,  and  bowed 
his  head  forward  on  the  desk  in  a  devotional  attitude. 

After  the  brief  excitement  caused  by  the  advent  of 
this  new  and  very  late  comer  had  subsided,  the  Sunday- 
school  resumed  its  former  lethargic  condition,  and  then 
I  heard  my  own  name  whispered  very  softly  in  my  ear. 

I  had  to  turn  my  head  but  a  little  to  meet  the  depre- 
cating, though  evidently  irreverent  eyes  of  Emily's 
fisherman. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Miss  Hungerford  ?  "  he  murmured 
brightly.  "  Please  don't  consider  me  in  the  light  of  an 
intruder.  I  know  I'm  rather  young  for  the  class,  to 
which  you  are  admitted  by  reason  of  some  extraordinary 
acquaintance  with  biblical  lore." 

"  But  it's  an  excellent  opportunity  for  you  to  address 
the  little  boys  and  girls,"  I  said. 


108  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  Mr.  Rollin,  reddening.  "  I  only 
meant  that  for  a  joke,  you  know." 

Without  pausing  to  reflect  at  all  on  the  moral  conse- 
quences of  the  act,  I  welcomed  the  appearance  of  this 
voluble,  fashionably-dressed  young  man  among  the 
"  ancient  and  fish-like  "  odors  of  the  West  Wallen  meet- 
ing-house with  a  positive  sense  of  relief. 

"  If  I  might  venture  to  suppose,"  Mr.  Rollin  continued, 
whispering,  "  that  I  came  here  to-day  clothed,  in  any 
sense,  as  an  angel  of  light  —  and,  indeed,  I  feel  a  good 
deal  like  that  sort  of  thing  to-day — so  sweet  are  the 
solaces  of  an  approving  conscience,  and  the  conscious- 
ness of  having  resisted  temptation.  You  see  I  was  — 
yes,  I  was  going  fishing  this  morning,  but  I  saw  Captain 
Keeler  go  by  to  church  —  observe,  too,  the  beauty  of 
setting  a  good  example  —  and  I  persuaded  myself  that 
it  was  wrong  to  go  fishing  on  Sunday,  and  so  I  concluded 
to  come  to  church,  too." 

At  the  light  mockery  of  the  fisherman's  tone,  the 
bolder  flattery  of  his  eyes,  I  felt  the  same  quick  flash  of 
resentment  that  his  words  had  occasioned  when  he 
walked  with  me  up  the  lane.  I  turned  my  head  away 
with  the  noble  resolve  to  keep  it  there  persistently. 

Then  I  heard  the  whisper,  "  Miss  Hungerforcl,  you 
are  driving  me  to  the  last  extreme  of  idol  worship.  I 
shall  keep  on  addressing  my  petitions  to  that  ostrich  tip 
in  your  hat  until  you  give  me,  at  least,  the  benefit  of 
your  profile." 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  say  such  irreverent  things 
to  me,  Mr.  Rollin,"  I  said,  quite  seriously,  turning,  and 
looking  him  full  in  the  face,  for  an  instant. 

"  Heaven  forbid !  "  he  replied,  in  an  almost  inaudible 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


109 


tone.  "  And  if  I  could  have  conceived  of  such  a  thing, 
I  would  beg  your  pardon.  You  have  brothers,  Miss 
Hungerford  ? " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  nodding  my  head  slightly,  with 
my  eyes  fixed  steadfastly  on  the  ancient  instructor  of 
our  class. 

"  How  would  you  feel  if  your  brother  was  off,  alone, 
in  some  wild  country,  in  need  of  good  and  gentle  influ- 
ences, and  some  young  lady  should  treat  him  as  you  are 
treating  me  ?  Please  turn  your  head  a  little  this  way. 
But,  on  the  whole,  I'm  very  glad  I'm  not  your  brother. 
Shall  I  tell  you  why  ?  Miss  Hungerford,"  the  fisherman 
continued,  after  a  pause,  "  do  you  know  I've  always 
heard  that  auburn-haired  people  come,  by  right,  into 
possession  of  the  worst  tempers.  Your  hair  is  brown  — 
dark  brown,  and  mine  is  red,  almost  —  don't  you  think 
so  ?  —  and  yet  my  mind  is  all  peace  within,  and  hope, 
and  joy,  and 

'  What  is  the  blooming  tincture  of  the  skin, 
To  peace  of  mind  and  purity,  within  ? ' 

Miss  Hungerford,  it  has  been  full  two  minutes,  by  my 
watch,  since  I  caught  the  last  beam  from  your  eye.  Let 
us  forget  the  idle  wranglings  of  the  hour,  and  compose 
our  minds  to  the  great  subjects  which  agitate  eternity. 
One  of  those  insects  which  infest  ancient  church  edifices 
has  been  hovering  about  Captain  Keeler's  mouth.  It 
has  been  drawn  in.  It  has  disappeared.  Such  are  we, 
hovering  on  the  vortex  of  eternity.  How  calm  and 
undisturbed  the  old  captain's  face !  how  utterly  uncon- 
scious of  the  tragedy  just  enacted  !  So  eternity  swallows 
us  and  leaves  no  trace  behind,  and  no  ripple  marks  its 
surface.  How  infer  —  how  more  than  odd  the  old  cap- 


HO  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

tain  looks,  anyway  !  I  say,  she  ought  to  have  touched 
up  his  eyebrows  a  little,  you  know,  while  she  was  at  the 
nefarious  business,  Miss  Hungerford." 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  listening  deliberately. 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  the  time  will  ever  come  when 
she  to  whom  I  once  gave  the  love,  of  my  young  heart, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know,  will  take  me  in 
hand,  and  dye  my  hair,  and  rig  me  up,  and  make  such 
an  infernal-looking  old  guy  of  me  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  escape,"  I  said.  "  But  you 
won't  care  so  much,  then." 

"  No,  that's  true."  Mr.  Rollin  sighed  deeply  ;  "  I 
shall  be  old,  then  ;  — 

'  When  I  am  old,  I  shall  not  care 
To  deck  with  flowers  my  faded  hair.' " 

The  idea  of  Mr.  Rollin  decking  his  hair  with  flowers 
was  a  specially  entertaining  one  to  me. 

Presently,  he  continued  :  — 

"To  descend  for  a  moment  to  secular  subjects  —  I've 
got  my  own  horses  here  now,  Miss  Hungerford.  I 
had  my  man  Bob  bring  them  down  from  Providence. 
They  got  here  last  night,  and  they're  a  pair  of  spankers, 
too,  if  I  do  say  it  that  shouldn't,  as  the  phrase  is. 
That  was  one  of  the  inducements  which  led  me  to 
follow  your  —  to  follow  Captain  Keeler's  example  in 
coming  to  church  this  morning.  And  now  I  have 
a  calm,  serious,  and  reasonable  proposal  to  make.  No 
doubt  we  are  both  familiar  with  the  small  convention- 
alities of  life,  but  on  such  a  day  as  this,  and  with  such  a 
glorious  air  outside,  and  such  a  unique  framework  of 
society  —  everything  delightfully  pagan  —  scruples 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  m 

worthy  only  of  small  consideration  at  any  time  should 
be  thrown  aside.  I  don't  know  what  perils  you  encoun- 
tered on  your  way  to  church  this  morning,  in  the 
canvas-covered  vehicle.  But,  if  you  will  drive  back  to 
Wallencamp  with  me,  I  promise  to  take  you  there 
fleetly  and  safely,  and  you  may  have  the  consciousness, 
besides,  if  you  care  for  it,  that  you  have  made  the  day 
one  of  spiritual  reclamation  to  an  erring  fellow- 
creature." 

The  Sunday-school  had  risen  to  its  feet  and  was 
slowly  droning  "  Yield  not  to  temptation,"  etc.  The 
situation  was  odd  enough.  Mr.  Rollin's  repressed 
laughing  voice  was  in  my  ear :  "  Will  you  yield  ?  "  and  I 
yielded. 

At  the  close  of  the  Sunday-school,  as  we  were  going 
out  of  the  church,  I  told  Grandma  that  I  should  drive 
home  with  Emily's  fisherman. 

She  drew  me  gravely  to  one  side.  "  We  shall  be  very 
sorry  to  lose  your  company,  teacher,"  she  said  ;  "only 
we  hadn't  ought  to  lose  no  precious  opportunity,  and  I 
do  hope  as  you'll  labor  for  that  young  man's  soul."  I 
felt  hopelessly  conscience-stricken. 

We  drove  home  through  "  Lost  Cedars  "  —  a  good 
many  miles  out  of  the  ordinary  course  —  and  I  was 
cheerfully  consenting  to  the  divergence. 

Wild  and  tenantless,  in  the  midst  of  a  wild  and 
tenantless  landscape,  Lost  Cedars  wore  that  air  of 
lovely,  though  utter,  desolation  which  might  easily  have 
suggested  its  name. 

There  was  a  still  unfrozen  lake,  which  the  setting  sun, 
more  like  the  sun  of  an  Italian  winter  than  of  rugged 
New  England,  was  painting  in  gorgeous  colors,  when  we 
reached  the  place. 


112  CAPE   COD  FOLKS 

"  We  come  fishing  here,  sometimes,"  said  Mr.  Rollin; 
"  I  keep  a  little  boat  down  there  under  the  bush,  and  I 
happen  to  have  the  key  of  the  boat  here  in  my  pocket. 
It  looks  awfully  tempting,  doesn't  it  ?  " . 

I  had  always  been  passionately  fond  of  out-door  life, 
and  prided  myself  in  having  acquired  no  little  skill 
at  the  oar.  We  were  out  on  the  painted  lake,  and  I  was 
rowing  the  light  boat,  and  taking  much  selfish  enjoy- 
ment out  of  the  scene  around  me,  when  I  became 
conscious  that  the  fisherman  was  leaning  far  forward 
from  his  seat  in  the  boat,  addressing  me  in  a  low  tone. 

"  To  discuss  a  topic  appropriate  to  the  day,  Miss 
Hungerford  :  I  suppose  you've  read  about  that  fellow 
who  was  looking  for  the  pearl  of  great  price,  haven't 
you?  —  that  is,  as  I  take  it,  you  know,  it  was  something 
that  was  going  to  be  of  more  value  to  him  than  any- 
thing else  in  the  world,  —  well,  now,  I  believe  that 
every  man  thinks  he's  going  to  be  lucky  enough  to  fall 
in  with  something  of  that  sort  some  day,  don't  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Rollin's  tone  was  unusually  serious  and  even 
slightly  embarrassed.  I  looked  up  with  curious  surprise 
from  my  dreamy  observation  of  the  water.  Then  I 
thought  of  what  Grandma  Keeler  had  said  to  me  about 
laboring  for  this  young  man's  spiritual  good. 

"I  think  we  all  ought  to  seek  it,"  I  observed  tritely, 
giving  a  long,  studied  artistic  stroke  to  the  oars.  "  I 
don't  see  why  you  shouldn't  find  it,  I'm  sure  —  if  you 
ask.  I  wish  that  I  were  good  enough  to  talk  to  you  real 
helpfully  on  this  subject" 

I  was  startled  at  the  inspiriting  effect  my  brief  exhor- 
tation seemed  already  to  have  produced  on  the  soul  of 
Emily's  fisherman. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  1 13 

"  To  ask  !  is  that  all !  "  he  exclaimed  in  the  same  low 
breath.  And  looking  at  the  glowing,  though  rather  un- 
sanctified  light  on  his  features,  my  interest  suddenly 
expanded  to  take  in  the  possible  drift  of  his  words.  I 
concluded  that  it  was  time  for  me  to  show  myself 
eminently  discreet ;  having  departed  so  far  from  the 
immediate  object  of  my  mission  as  to  spend  a  consider- 
able part  of  the  Sabbath  driving  and  rowing  with  a 
strange  young  man,  miles  from  every  place  of  refuge. 

"  I'm  tired,'''  I  said.  "  Please  row  back  now,  I 
should  like  to  go  home." 

I  rose  to  give  Mr.  Rollin  my  place  at  the  oar.  He 
held  out  his  hand  to  assist  me,  and,  whether  by  any 
malicious  design  of  his  or  not,  at  that  moment  the  boat 
gave  a  sudden  lurch,  and  I  was  precipitated  helplessly 
forward  into  his  arms.  I  felt  his  kiss  burning  on 
my  lips. 

With  anger  at  the  fisherman's  unfairness,  and  bitter- 
ness at  what  I  felt  to  be  the  mortifying  result  of  my  own 
folly  and  indiscretion  — "  Oh,"  I  exclaimed  ;  "  I  hate 
you !  I  wish  you  would  never  speak  to  me  again  !  I 
wish  I  had  fallen  into  the  water." 

The  fisherman  sent  the  boat  leaping  on  with  long 

strokes.  "D n  it !  "  he  muttered  softly:"!  wish 

you  had,  and  I  after  you  !  " 

We  drove  for  several  miles  on  the  way  homeward  in 
silence.  Then  Mr.  Rollin  spoke.  I  had  been  meditat- 
ing upon  Rebecca,  upon  my  determination  to  make  my 
life  in  Wall  encamp  one  of  supreme  self-sacrifice  and 
devotion  to  duty,  and  had  concluded,  in  a  deeply 
repentant  mind,  that  this  unpleasant  incident  at  the 
close  of  the  day  was  only  the  natural  consequence  of  my 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

error  in  departing  from  the  prescribed  limits  of  my 
self-appointed  task. 

I  felt  that  after  this  experience  it  would  be  unwise  for 
me  further  to  extend  my  mission  work  in  Mr.  Rollin's 
behalf.  So  I  answered  him  but  briefly,  and  in  a  tone  of 
martyr-like  composure,  which  I  could  not  help  observ- 
ing perplexed  and  irritated  him  more  than  anger  or  the 
most  frigid  silence  would  have  done. 

I  was  strengthened  in  this  frame  of  mind  when  we 
parted  at  the  little  gate  in  front  of  the  Ark,  and  Mr. 
Rollin  proposed  another  drive  for  the  ensuing  week. 

Then  I  revealed  to  the  fisherman  the  grave  burden  of 
my  soul. 

"  Mr.  Rollin,"  I  said  ;  "  if  I  had  come  to  Wallencamp 
merely  in  search  of  my  own  pleasure  and  diversion,  I 
should  doubtless  find  it  very  easy  to  do  some  things 
which  I  do  not  consider  harmful  in  themselves,  but 
which  it  is  wrong  for  me  to  do  under  the  circumstances. 
I  may  tell  you  that  I  have  been  very  reckless,  very 
thoughtless  in  my  life,  but  I  came  here  resolving  to  de- 
vote myself  to  an  earnest,  serious  work.  I  hoped  to  do 
these  people  good.  They  do  seem  to  believe  in  me. 
They  trust  me.  1  cannot  bear  that  they  should  think 
me  in  any  way  unworthy  of  their  trust.  When  you 
asked  me  to  drive  this  evening,  —  it  was  just  as  it  used 
to  be  —  I  did  not  think.  You  were  very  kind.  It  was 
pleasant,  and  I  thank  you,  —  but  I  ought  not  to  have 
gone  —  don't  you  see?  I  believe,  now,  that  it  would 
have  been  so  much  better  if  I  had  not." 

"  I  don't  see,"  said  Mr.  Rollin ;  "  why  should  you 
leave  me  out  altogether  ?  Don't  I  believe  in  you  ?  Don't 
I  need  to  be  done  some  good  to  ? " 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  115 

At  this  last  childishly  whimsical  appeal  I  was  in  sore 
danger  of  being  diverted  from  the  serious  channel  of  my 
thoughts.  Then  the  door  of  the  Ark  softly  opened 
a  little  way,  and  there,  nightcapped  in  white,  like  a 
full,  benignant  moon,  appeared  the  head  of  Grandma 
Keeler,  as  she  peered  blindly  out  into  the  night. 

"  Poor  old  soul !  "  I  said.  "  She  has  probably  been 
'waiting  and  watching.'  Don't  you  see  already  one  of 
the  results  of  my  sinning  ?  Good  night,"  I  said,  ex- 
tending my  hand  to  the  fisherman,  who  had  fixed  on 
that  innocent  and  unconscious  nightcap  a  darkly 
withering  gaze. 

"  Oh,  never  mind  me,"  he  muttered,  turning  abruptly. 
"  Only  take  care  of  this  infernal  old  nest  of  Hoosiers, 
and  respectable  p°onle  may  go  to  the  devil !" 


H6  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

BECKY   AND   THE    CRADLEBOW. 

EACHER'S  got  Beck's  beau !  " 

"  Teacher's  got  Beck's  beau  !  "  I  heard  it 
whispered  among  the  school  children.  Rebecca 
heard,  too,  and  paled  a  little,  but  looked  up  at  me  and 
smiled  as  frankly  as  ever. 

Seeing  her  alone  afterwards,  I  took  occasion  to 
remark,  incidentally,  "how  kind  it  was  of  her  friend, 
Mr.  Rollin,  to  bring  me  home  from  church.  Fanny 
was  so  slow !  And  I  thought  he  was  a  very  pleasant 
young  man,  but  even  the  most  estimable  people,  you 
know,"  I  added,  laughing,  with  an  undertone  of  studied 
significance  ;  "  are  not  just  fitted  to  enjoy  each  other's 
society  always." 

Then  I  blushed  under  the  girl's  clear,  trustful  gaze. 

"  You  don't  think  I  mind  what  the  children  talk ! " 
she  said. 

Every  day  Rebecca  appealed  more  and  more,  un- 
consciously, to  what  was  most  generous  and  grave  and 
heedful  in  my  nature.  She  seemed  to  be  demanding  of 
me,  with  mute,  gentle  importunity,  to  make  real  my 
ideal  of  life,  to  be  what  I  knew  she  believed  me  to  be. 
Her  faith  in  my  superior  wisdom  and  goodness,  her 
slow,  timid  way  of  confiding  in  me,  with  tears  and 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  117 

blushes  even ;  it  was  all  very  flattering,  very  captivating 
to  one  who  had  but  so  lately  risen  to  occupy  the  pedes- 
tal of  a  moral  instructress,  and  "  my  child,"  "  my  dear 
child,"  I  said  to  her  in  many  private  discourses,  with 
more  than  the  tranquil  grace  and  dignity  with  which 
such  terms  had  been  applied  to  me,  only  a  year  before, 
by  the  august  principal  of  Mt.  B Seminary. 

Rebecca  read  my  books,  and  I  drew  her  out  to  talk 
with  me  about  them.  She  prepared  her  lessons,  with 
me,  out  of  school.  She  knew  that  she  might  come 
whenever  she  chose  to  my  little  room  at  the  Ark, 
which  the  chimney  kept  comfortably  warm,  and  often  I 
heard  her  footsteps  on  the  stairs  and  her  gentle  knock 
at  the  door. 

If  I  was  troubled  or  perplexed  on  any  account, 
Rebecca  always  seemed  to  understand  in  that  quiet, 
unobtrusive  way  of  hers,  and  followed  my  movements 
with  a  grave,  restful  sympathy  in  her  eyes.  On  several 
occasions  I  had  asked  her,  playfully,  to  walk  up  the 
lane  with  me  after  school.  So  it  became  a  matter  of 
course  that  she  should  wait  for  me.  Often  we  took 
longer  walks,  for  it  was  an  "  open  winter,"  with  only  one 
or  two  light  falls  of  snow. 

Then  I  believed  the  "  Tempter  "  came  to  me,  in  the 
form  of  another  invitation  to  drive,  from  Mr.  Rollin. 

Occupied  with  my  duties  in  the  school-room,  one 
afternoon,  I  was  startled  to  observe  these  characters  as 
suddenly  and  mysteriously  raised  as  if  by  the  unseen 
hand  of  a  modern  sibyl  on  the  blackboard  :  — 

"  teecher's  Bo  is  a  setting  On  the  Fens." 

Involuntarily  raising  my  eyes  to  the  window,  I  was 
unable  to  discover  on  the  fence  opposite  anything  of  the 


ng  CAPE  COD   FOLKS. 

nature  indicated  in  those  words.  I  concluded  that  the 
whole  was  to  be  taken  as  one  of  those  deeply  alle- 
gorical expressions  in  which  the  Wallencamp  tongue 
abounded. 

Shortly  afterward,  a  boy  who  had  been  playing  truant 
and  the  Jews'  harp  at  the  same  time,  in  a  subdued  and 
melancholy  way  under  the  window,  and  who  had,  doubt- 
less, been  bribed  to  undertake  his  present  commission 
through  some  extraordinary  means,  entered  the  school 
room,  and  laid  on  my  desk  a  note  from  the  auburn-haired 
fisherman.  It  was  hastily  scrawled  in  lead  pencil,  on  a 
leaf  torn  from  a  memorandum. 

The  fisherman  confessed  to  all  the  meekness  and  long 
suffering,  without  the  cheerful  intrepidity  of  Mary's  little 
lamb  !  He  would  do  all  his  waiting  outside.  Mr.  Levi 
was  down  from  West  Wallen  to-day,  and  said  that ,  he 
had  heard  somebody  say  that  there  were  four  letters 
came  for  the  teacher  in  last  night's  mail.  Would  I  like 
to  drive  over  to  West  Wallen  and  get  them.  The  fisher- 
man did  not  believe  that  I  had  been  in  earnest  in  the 
prudish  and  unreasonable  notions  I  had  propounded 
when  he  left  me  the  other  evening. 

"  Prudish  !  "  In  my  newly-acquired  elevation  of  mind, 
I  hugged  the  term  with  a  deep,  intense,  and  mysterious 
delight.  Oh,  if  my  mother  could  only  know — if  my 
elder  sister  could  only  know  that  I  had  actually  been 
accused  of  prudishness !  It  was  in  the  glow  and 
inspiration  of  this  idea  that  I  indited  the  answer  to  Mr. 
Rollin's  missive:  "Why would  he  make  it  unpleasant 
and  disagreeable  for  me  to  do  what  seemed  so  plainly 
my  duty  ?  "  —  and  dispatched  the  same  by  the  pensive 
and  unpunished  truant,  who  was  soon  heard  again 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


119 


revelling  in  the  stolen  sweets  of  his  Jews'  harp  beneath 
the  window. 

After  this  I  had  no  further  intercourse  with  the  fisher- 
man for  some  days.  If  I  chanced  to  meet  him  in  the 
lane,  Rebecca  was  always  with  me.  He  came  one 
evening  to  the  Ark.  The  young  people  were  there, 
singing. 

Then  I  heard,  from  time  to  time,  of  his  taking  Rebecca 
to  drive,  and  congratulated  myself  that,  through  my 
composed  wisdom  and  forethought,  the  little  world  of 
Wallencamp  was  destined  to  move  very  smoothly,  on  the 
whole. 

"  I  wonder  why  Mr.  Rollin  don't  go  home,"  observed 
Grandma  Keeler,  complacently,  on  one  of  those  rare 
occasions  when  the  Keeler  family  circle  held  quiet  pos- 
session of  the  Ark  before  the  songful  company  had 
arrived.  "  He  didn't  use  to  stay  but  a  week  or  two  at 
a  time,  and  all  the  rest  o'  the  fishermen  have  been  gone 
some  time  now ;  and  he  keeps  them  horses  down  here, 
and  goes  loungin'  around  with  no  more  object  than  a 
butterfly  in  December." 

"  I  tell  ye  he's  a  makin'  up  to  Beck,"  said  Grandpa 
Keeler,  with  the  knowing  air  of  an  old  man  accus- 
tomed to  fathom  mysteries  of  this  peculiar  nature. 

A  spark  shot  out  of  Madeline's  great,  black  eyes. 
Then  she  laughed  unpleasantly.  "  There's  something 
in  the  wind  besides  Beck,"  said  she. 

"  Why,  I  don't  know,"  said  Grandma ;  "  he  don't 
hang  around  there  very  much,  may  be,  but  they  say  he 
takes  her  to  ride,  and  I'm  sure  he  don't  wait  on  nobody 
else.  But  I  should  think,  if  he  was  a  going  to  speak 
out  he'd  ought  to  do  it,  and  not  waste  his  time  a  keepin' 


120  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

a  puttin'  it  off.  Why,  my  fust  husband  wasn't  but  a 
week  makin'  up  his  mind,  and  pa,"  she  continued, 
referring  openly  to  Grandpa  Keeler,  "  he  wan't  quite  so 
outspoken,  to  be  sure ;  but  he  came  around  to  it  in  the 
course  of  a  month  or  two,  and  kind  o'  beat  around  the 
bush  then,  and  wanted  to  know  what  I  thought  on't,  and 
—  wall,  I  told  him  '  yes,'  —  I  didn't  see  no  use  in  bein' 
squeamish  so  long  as  I'd  once  made  up  my  mind  to  it." 

"  I  asked  ye  as  soon  as  I  could  !  "  exclaimed  Grandpa, 
bristling  on  the  defensive.  "  I  wanted  to  be  sure  o' 
gittin'  a  house  fust." 

"  There  !  "  said  Madeline  briskly,  putting  down  her 
foot,  and  tossing  her  head  as  she  addressed  the  old 
couple.  "  Be  good,  children !  Be  good  !  —  and  now, 
do  you  mark  my  words,  it  isn't  Becky  Weir  that  Dave 
Rollin  is  hanging  around  here  for.  There's  some  folks 
to  be  made  up  to,  and  there's  some  folks,  jest  as  good, 
to  be  stepped  on.  And  Dave  Rollin  —  what  does  he 
think  of  Wallencamp  folks,  anyway  ?  He  wouldn't  take 
the  trouble  to  kick  'em  out  of  his  road  ;  he'd  jest  step 
on  'em,  and  he's  steppin'  on  Beck  Weir.  He  don't  care 
enough  about  her  to  let  her  alone." 

"  Wall,  I  —  don't  —  know !  "  said  Grandma.  "  What's 
he  stayin'  for,  then  ?  " 

"  Staying  !  Lord,  ma  !  "  said  Madeline  sharply,  with 
a  strange  cold  glitter  in  her  eye.  "  How  do  I  know 
what  he's  stayin'  for  ?  Oh,"  she  added,  in  a  tone  of 
lighter  bitterness,  "  It's  a  mild  winter  and  open  roads. 
He's  sketching  they  say,  and  exploring  the  Cape.  Let 
him  explore  from  one  end  to  the  other,  he  won't  find 
such  another  fool  as  himself." 

"  We  can't   help   nothin'  by  talkin'  that  way  ;  "  said 


CAPE    COD    FOLKS.  121 

Grandma  Keeler,  a  little  pale,  though  calmly  cognizant 
of  Madeline's  emotion. 

"  You  know  I  had  an  experience  of  my  own  once,  ma," 
said  Madeline,  terribly  white  about  the  lips. 

"  I  wouldn't  rake  up  old  wounds,  daughter."  There 
was  nothing  unfeeling  in  Grandma  Keeler's  tone. 

The  daughter  shut  her  lips  together  tightly,  as  though 
more  than  she  had  intended  to  reveal  had  already 
escaped  them,  and  applied  herself  desperately  to  her 
sewing. 

I  fancied  that  I  had  detected  a  personally  aggressive 
quality  in  Madeline's  indignant  tone. 

"  I  don't  see  why  we  should  feel  that  way  about 
Rebecca,"  I  said.  "The  more  one  gets  aquainted  with 
her,  the  more  lovable  and  worthy  of  respect  she  seems. 
I  knew  a  great  many  girls,  at  school  —  girls  with  every 
advantage  of  wealth  and  culture,  too,  who  h  id  not  half 
of  Rebecca's  grace  and  refinement,  nor  a  tenth  part  of 
her  beauty  !  " 

Madeline  said  nothing,  bending  to  her  work  with  the 
same  bitter  compression  of  the  lips. 

"  It's  right  you  should  stand  up  for  her,teacher,"  said 
Grandma  Keeler,  pleasantly.  "  Miss  Waite,  she  begun 
by  makin'  a  kind  o'  pet  o'  her,  but  I  don't  think  Rebecca 
ever  set  her  heart  on  her  as  she  has  on  you,  and  it's  easy 
to  see  you've  took  lots  o'  pains  with  her.  She's  a  gittin' 
them  same  kind  o'  sorter  interestin'  high-flowed  ways  — 
why,  she  used  to  be  just  like  the  rest  of 'em — jest  sich 
a  rompin',  roarin'  thing  as  Drussilly  Weir  is  now." 

"Goodness  gracious,  ma!"  Madeline  put  in  again, 
sharply.  "  What  good  is  it  going  to  do  Beck  Weir  to 
put  on  airs?  Better  stick  to  her  own  ways,  and  her  own 


122  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

folks  —  she'll  find  they'll  stand  by  her  best  in  the  end, 
I  guess  —  than  to  be  fillin'  her  head  with  notions  to  hurt 
her  feelin's  over  by  and  by.  She's  a  fool,  I  think,  for 
treatin'  George  Olver  as  she  does.  He's  worth  a  dozen 
Dave  Rollins,  if  his  coat  don't  set  quite  so  fine,  and 
would  work  his  fingers  off  to  suit  her  if  she'd  only  set- 
tle down  to  him  and  be  sensible." 

"  Wall,"  said  Grandma  Keeler,  in  a  tone  that  was  a 
curious  contrast  to  Madeline's,  "our  feelin's  won't 
always  go  as  we'd  ought  to  have  em',  daughter." 

"  No,  they  won't !  "  Madeline  snapped  out  excitedly, 
"  but,  ma,  you  know  I'm  in  the  right  of  it  just  as  well  as 
I  do  ;  and  there's  Lute  Cradlebow's  got  to  dreamin'  and 
moonin'  around  in  the  same  way.  Took  it  into  his  head 
he  wanted  to  get  an  education  —  well,  what  hasn't  he 
took  into  his  head  !  So  he  must  begin  recitin'  to  teach- 
er. Well,  he  had  in  his  mind  to  study,  I  don't  doubt, 
to  begin  with,  and  used  to  come  two  or  three  times  a 
week,  and  rattle  off  a  string,  and  now  he's  here  every 
day  of  his  life,  and,  if  there's  any  reciting  going  on,  I 
don't  hear  it  —  not  that  I  want  to  meddle  with  other 
folks'  business,  but  I've  known  those  boys  a  good  many 
years,  and  I  hate  to  see  anybody  hurt  and  run  over, 
even  if  they  be  young  and  ignorant,  and  making  fools 
of  themselves.  Some  folks  are  none  too  good,  I  think, 
for  all  their  airs,  and  had*  better  look  out  to  see  where 
they're  going ! " 

"Why,  thar',  Madeline!"  said  Grandma,  with  a 
decided  touch  of  disapproval  in  her  voice.  "R'a'ly, 
seeirfs  to  me  you're  kind  o'  out.  I'm  sure  Luther  Lar- 
kin  seems  to  be  a  gittin'  along  finely  with  his  Latin  and 
Algibbery  —  I'm  sure  I've  heard  a  lot  of  it,  when  I've 


CAPE    COD    FOLKS  123 

been  goin'  through  the  room,  if  you  ain't ;  and  if  he's 
took  it  into  his  head  to  git  book  larnin',  and  maybe 
scratch  enough  together  to  go  away  somewheres  to 
school,  why,  I'm  sure,  there's  older  boys  than  him,  and 
not  so  bright,  have  ketched  up  if  they  set  there  minds 
to  it,  and  as  for  our  teacher  —  Madeline  !  " 

"  Oh,  I've  no  doubt  but  what  Miss  Hungerford  meant 
kindly,"  said  Madeline,  with  the  lightness  she  could  so 
suddenly  assume.  "  It's  a  mighty  queer  world,  that's 
all ! "  she  added  presently,  rising  and  putting  on  her 
bonnet ;  "  and  managed  very  queerly,  for  I  suppose  it 
is  managed.  I'm  going  out,  ma.  Those  children  have 
split  my  head  with  their  noise  to-day,  and  I  promised 
Patty  I'd  come  in  and  sit  awhile.  Now,  if  I've  been 
cross  and  crazy,  don't  you  and  teacher  talk  me  over," 
she  said,  looking  back  and  trying  hard  to  smile  —  and 
she  did  look  very  tired  and  white,  as  though  she  had 
been  suffering  —  "and  if  those  children  wake  up  and 
begin  to  squall"  —with  a  glance  towards  the  little  bed- 
room —  "  let  'em  squall.  If  I've  wished  it  once  to-day, 
I  have  a  hundred  times,  that  they  was  the  other  side 
of  sunset ! " 

"  I  wish  you'd  step  into  Lihu's  —  such  a  poor,  suffer- 
in'  creetur  as  he  is  —  with  these,"  said  Grandma, 
appearing  from  the  pantry  with  some  eggs  in  her  apron. 
"  I  wish  you  could  take  the  consolations  of  religion  with 
you,  Madeline,"  she  continued  gravely,  as  Mrs.  Philan- 
der was  closing  the  door. 

"  Lord,  ma  !  my  pocket's  full  now  !"  exclaimed  Mad- 
eline. "  Besides,  they  might  break  the  eggs  !  "  And  the 
latch  fell  down  with  a  click. 

"I  wish  Madeline  was  a  believer,"  Grandma  sighed, 


124 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


purposely  rattling  about  the  cover  of  the  stove  to  wake 
up  Grandpa,  who  had  fallen  asleep  in  his  chair. 

Grandpa  looked  at  me,  and  smiled  feebly,  then 
roused  himself  to  meet  this  supposed  challenge  like  a 
man. 

"  Believer,  ma  ?  "  said  he  ;  "  why  ain't  I  a  believer  ? 
As  old  Cap'n  Gates  said  to  me  on  his  last  voyage"  — 
Grandpa  yawned  alarmingly  (poor  old  man  !  he  was 
but  half  awake),  as  this  unlucky  reminiscence  of  his 
sea-faring  life  flitted  through  his  brain  —  "  says  he,  '  I 
read  my  almanick  and  my  Bible,  both,  Bijonah ; '  says 
he,  '  I  read  'em  both,  and  I  believe  there's  a  great  deal 
o'  truth  in  both  on  'em.'  " 

"  Thar',  pa !  "  said  Grandma,  solemnly,  "  you'd  better 
go  to  sleep  !  you'd  better  close  your  eyes,  Bijonah  Keeler ! 
What  if  you  should  never  open  'em  again  on  earthly 
scenes,  and  them  words  on  your  lips,  —  and  you  a  per- 
fessor !  " 

Grandpa  scratched  his  head  in  drowsy  bewilderment, 
passed  his  hand  once  or  twice  over  the  coarse  stubble 
on  his  face,  and  again  committed  himself  helplessly  to 
the  sweet  obliviousness  of  slumber. 

I  drew  my  chair  up  confidentially  close  to  Grandma 
Keeler's,  and  rested  my  arms  on  the  table  as  I  looked 
into  her  face. 

"  Grandma  !  "  I  said,  for  I  knew  that  she  was  better 
pleased  to  have  me  call  her  that ;  "  I  begin  to  think 
that  I  ought  never  to  have  come  to  Wallencamp  on  a 
mission,  that  perhaps  it  would  be  just  as  well  if  I  had 
never  come  to  Wallencamp  at  all,  I  mean.  I  didn't 
think.  At  first,  it  seemed  more  than  anything  else,  like 
something  very  new  to  entertain  myself  with.  I  didn't 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  125 

think  enough  of  the  responsibility.  Then,  perhaps,  I 
thought  too  much  of  it.  I  don't  know.  I  wish  I  were 
out  of  it  all.  Grandma,  I  never  tried  to  do  the  right 
thing  so  hard  before  in  my  life.  I  never  worked  so 
hard  before  —  and  I  don't  mind  that ;  but  I  meant  it 
all  for  the  best,  and  it's  no  use,  it's  just  like  all  the 
rest.  I'm  tired.  I  wish  I  were  out  of  it." 

"Wall,  thar'  now,  darlin',"  said  Grandma,  employing 
to  the  full  her  tone  of  infinite  consolation.  "  You  ain't 
the  first  one  as  mistook  a  stump  for  a  livin'  creetur  in 
the  night,  and  don't  you  talk  about  givin'  up  nor  nothin' 
like  it,  darlin',  for  we  couldn't  do  without  you  noways  — 
nor  you  without  us,  for  yet  a  while,  I'm  thinkin',  though 
it  does  seem  strange  —  and  never  you  mind  one  straw 
for  what  Madeline  said,  for  she  was  kind  o'  out  to-night, 
anyway,  not  having  got  no  letter  from  Philander,  I  sup- 
pose. But  then  she  ought  not  to  feel  so.  Why,  there 
was  time  and  time  agin  that  I  didn't  git  no  letter  from 
Bijonah  Keeler  when  he  was  voyagin',  and  to  be  sure, 
they  wasn't  much  better  than  nothin'  when  they  did 
come;  for  pa" — Grandma  cast  a  calmly  comprehen- 
sive glance  at  her  unconscious  mate  —  "  pa  was  a  man 
that  had  a  great  many  idees  in  general,  but,  when  he  set 
down  to  write  a  letter,  somehow  he  seemed  to  consider 
that  it  wasn't  no  place  for  idees,  a  letter  wasn't  — 
seemed  as  though  he  managed  a'most  a  purpose  not  to 
get  none  in."  * 

"Grandma,"  I  said,  leaning  forward,  laughing,  and 
folding  my  hands  in  her  lap,  "  you're  the  best  comforter 
I  know  of." 

"  Wall,  thar',"  said  she  ;  "  it's  a  good  deal  in  feelin's, 
and  Madeline  ain't  r'al  well,  so  she  kind  o'  allows  'em 
to  overcome  her  sometimes." 


126  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

"  And  what  did  she  mean  by  saying  that  about 
Rebecca  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  she  just  meant  girls  will  be  girls,  that's  all !  " 
replied  Grandma  ;  "  why,  mercy  !  I  know  all  about  that. 
I  don't  feel  like  nothin'  much  more  than  a  girl  myself, 
half  the  time ;  and  we  all  have  to  have  our  experiences, 
to  be  sure.  They  ain't  nobody  else  can  wear  'em  for 
us,  but,  dear  me!  the  Lord  ain't  going  to  let  our 
experiences  hurt  us ;  they're  for  our  betterin'." 

"  And  Lute  Cradlebow,  Grandma  ?  "  I  said ;  "  what 
did  she  mean  about  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  just  meant  boys  will  be  boys,  that's  all  — 
especially  big  ones  —  but  thar' !  I've  known  'em  to  get 
over  it  a  hundred  times  and  not  hurt  'em  none.  If  you're 
always  lookin'  at  human  natur'  on  the  dark  side,  it  seems 
kind  o'  desp'rit.  My  first  husband,  he  wasn't  a  fretful 
man,  but  he  was  always  viewin'  the  dark  side  o'  things. 
I  suppose  one  reason  was  he  didn't  have  no  father  nor 
mother,  and  so  he  kind  o'  begun  life  as  a  took-in  boy, 
but  Polios  Slocum,  he  done  very  well  by  him,  for  he 
hadn't  no  children  of  his  own,  but  his  brother  —  that 
was  Daniel  Slocum  —  he  had  six.  There  was  two  boys 
and  four  girls.  Mary,  she  came  fust.  She  was  born 
February  nineteenth  " 

I  was  sorry  that  Grandma's  thoughts  had  drifted  into 
this  hopeless  and  interminable  channel. 

I  had  considered  carefully  what  Madeline  had  said, 
and  determined  on  a  little  new  advice  for  my  friend, 
Rebecca.  So,  the  next  time  we  were  alone  in  my  room 
together,  I  directed  the  conversation  with  a  view  to  this 
end. 

"  And  I  wouldn't  trust  any  one,  my  dear,"  I  said  with 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  127 

cheerful  earnestness  ;  "  then  if  people  prove  true,  why, 
it's  all  the  more  delightful ;  and  if  not,  one  isn't  disap- 
pointed ;  so  you  can  hold  the  scales  quite  indifferently 
in  your  own  hand,  and  are  always  master  of  the  situation. 
Oh,  I  wouldn't  trust  people  !  It  would  be  very  nice  if 
this  were  the  sort  of  world  that  you  could  do  it  in,  but 
it  isn't.  It's  a  very  deceitful  world." 

"  But  I  can  trust  you,  can't  I  ?  "  Rebecca  held  me 
with  her  gravely  questioning  eyes. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  ;  "  I  began  with  the  determina- 
tion to  be  severely  true  to  my  text,  but  the  look  in 
Rebecca's  eyes  hurt  me. 

"Oh,  yes!  little  girl,"  I  continued,  falling  into  the 
half-tender,  half-playful  tone  that  it  was  always  easiest 
to  assume  with  her  ;  "  of  course,  you  must  trust  me ! 
Haven't  I  been  a  good  teacher  to  you,  so  far  ?  "  And 
I  sought  by  smiling  in  the  girl's  face,  to  chase  the 
grieved  expression  away  from  it.  "  What  I  meant  was 
that  I  wouldn't  trust  people  generally,  because  it's  a 
selfish  world,  and  such  is  the  depravity  of  the  human 
mind  that  if  it  appears  at  all  convenient,  we  are  apt,  you 
know,  to  sacrifice  other  people  to  our  own  interests  ;  so, 
with  all  the  little  kindnesses  and  politenesses  which,  are 
current  in  society,  it  is  still  the  common  practice  —  and 
if  is  best  that  it  should  be  so  —  to  keep,  in  the  main,  a 
sharp  look  out  for  '  Number  One  ! '  ' 

Having  proceeded  so  far,  it  occurred  to  me  that  the 
occasion  was  favorable  for  the  discharge  of  another  duty 
which  I  had  been  meditating  in  regard  to  Rebecca. 

"  You  are  what  Grandma  Keeler  calls  a  believer,  are 
you  not,,  dear  ? "  I  said,  with  the  same  composedly  dic- 
tatorial manner  :  "  in  distinction  from  a  professor,  I 
mean." 


128  CAPE   COD  FOLKS 

Rebecca  gave  a  little  gasp,  and  turned  her  head  away, 
for  an  instant.  When  she  looked  back,  there  were  tears 
of  distress  in  her  eyes. 

I  felt  a  vague  wonder  and  regret. 

"  No,"  she  said  ;  "  I  thought,  once  —  I  wanted  —  I 
hoped " 

"  Why,  child  !  "  I  hastened  to  exclaim.  "  I  didn't 
ask  you  because  I  had  any  reason  to  doubt  that  you 
were  one  —  quite  the  contrary  —  but  simply  for  this. 
It  seems  to  me  it  would  be  such  a  desirable  thing  for 
you,  situated  as  you  are,  here,  with  so  few  surroundings 
of  a  refining  and  elevating  nature,  if  you  could  attach 
yourself,  if  it  were  merely  for  a  feeling  of  fellowship  and 
sympathy  —  for  of  course,  you  could  not  attend,  often 
—  to  some  simple  Orthodox  body  of  believers  —  like  the 
Methodist  church  at  West  Wallen,  for  instance.  It 
seems  to  me,  that,  in  your  case,  believing  simply  and 
unquestionably,  as  I  have  no  doubt  you  do,  it  would  be 
a  sort  of  assurance,  a  sort  of  continual  rest  and  support 
to  you.  It  would  be  a  great  relief  to  me  if  I  felt  that 
you  were  so  guarded.  Not  that  I  consider  it  essential 
at  all ;  to  some  people,  indeed,  of  a  deeply  thoughtful 
and  inquisitive  mind,  such  a  course  would  appear 
impossible.  You  have  never  troubled  yourself,  Becky," 
I  continued,  in  a  tone  of  reassuring  lightness  ;  "  you 
have  never  troubled  yourself  with  doubts  and  specula- 
tions on  religious  subjects  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  Becky  replied,  the  look  of  per- 
plexity and  distress  deepening  in  her  eyes. 

"  Why  should  you  ?  "  I  murmured,  softly  stroking  her 
hair;  "He  carries  the  lambs  in  His  bosom."  I  had 
been  little  in  the  habit  of  quoting  Scripture  —  the  words, 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


129 


coming  to  my  mind,  struck  me  as  particularly  beautiful 
and  applicable  on  this  occasion.  "  And  so  what  I  have 
suggested,  would  be  the  easiest  and  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world  for  you  to  do.  I  suppose  it  might  be  nec- 
essary for  you  to  have  come  to  some  conclusion  in  regard 
to  the  first  principles  of  Theology  ;  but  probably  you 
have  already  satisfied  yourself  as  to  these  in  your  own 
mind." 

Rebecca  looked  little  like  one  who  had  arrived  at  the 
calm  plane  of  philosophical  conclusion  of  any  sort. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  gasped. 

"  Well,  take  the  Trinity,  for  instance,"  I  continued,  in 
a  tone  highly  suggestive  of  calm  and  supreme  forbearance 
with  helpless  ignorance.  "  Probably  you  believe  in  the 
Trinity  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Rebecca.  "  I  don't  know 
what  it  means.  Nobody  ever  told  me ;  nobody  ever 
talked  to  me  about  those  things  before." 

"  It's  simply,"  I  said  ;  "  a  term  implying  the  existence 
of  three  persons  in  the  Godhead.  So  the  Trinitarians 
are  distinguished  from  the  Unitarians  who  believe  that 
it  consists  of  one.  I'm  not  particularly  informed  as  to 
the  Methodist  credentials  of  faith.  You  will  always  hear 
that  they  believe  that  salvation  is  free  to  all  who  will 
accept  of  it.  Some  people  believe  that  man  is  a  free 
agent,  and  may  accept  or  refuse  the  means  of  grace, 
and  if  he  refuses,  is  eternally  lost.  And  then,  again, 
there  are  the  Universalists,  who  believe  that  all  will  be 
eventually  saved.  There  is  the  Calvinistic  element  — 
those  who  believe  in  predestination  —  that  is " 

Becky  had  laid  her  head  down  on  the  bed,  and  was 
quietly  sobbing. 


130 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


"  My  poor  child,"  I  exclaimed,  with  swift  compassion ; 
"  don't  think  anything  more  about  what  I  have  said  to 
you.  Let  it  go.  It  isn't  vital." 

"  You  don't  hate  me  for  not  knowing  anything  ? " 
sobbed  Becky.  "  Nobody  ever  tried  to  have  me  under 
stand,  before." 

"  You  know  enough  ;  quite  enough,  dear !  "  I  remarked 
hastily,  producing  from  my  trunk  a  quantity  of  illus- 
trated magazines.  These  we  looked  over  together,  and 
when  Becky  went  away,  the  tears  were  dried  in  her 
eyes,  and  she  was  laughing  as  merrily  as  ever. 

With  the  severely  implied  reproach  of  Madeline's 
words  still  in  my  mind,  I  took  pains  to  assume  toward 
Luther  Larkin  a  more  elder-sisterly  air  even  than  before. 

It  was  true,  I  felt  that  I  had  been  unjustly  stung, 
having,  amid  the  press  of  other  duties,  undertaken  the 
advancement  of  that  bright  youth,  from  motives,  I 
believed,  of  an  ideal  and  disinterested  nature.  It  was 
also  true,  that,  after  the  first  enthusiasm  with  respect  to 
his  lessons  had  passed  away,  as  well  as  the  natural 
diffidence  he  had  at  first  felt  in  my  presence,  Luther 
Larkin,  though  punctual  to  the  hour  of  recitation,  had 
gradually  fallen  into  a  habit  of  more  lively  and  discur- 
sive inquiry  than  that  furnished  within  the  dull  range  of 
his  text-books.  He  had  a  singularly  fearless  manner 
of  challenging  the  inexplicable  in  thought  and  life,  with 
a  light  conversational  flow  of  much  brilliancy.  More- 
over, he  was  a  delightful  dreamer. 

We  had  our  recitation,  for  quiet,  in  one  of  Grandma's 
gloomy  and  mysterious  keepin'-rooms.  The  only  object 
inviting  to  sedentary  posture  in  this  room  was  Grand- 
pa's huge  "  chist,"  which  occupied  a  position  "  along- 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  131 

side  "  the  East  window.  Those  sacred  window  curtains, 
of  green  paper,  flowered  with  crimson  roses,  were  never 
rolled  up ;  but  as  the  light  strayed  in  at  one  side,  and 
fell  on  the  Cradlebow's  fine  head,  often  I  reflected  that 
under  certain  other  conditions  of  life,  meaning  condi- 
tions more  favorable  to  Luther  Larkin,  I  might  have 
regarded  him  very  tenderly,  and  invested  the  strength 
and  beauty  of  his  young  manhood  with  heroic  meaning. 

As  it  was,  I  assumed  that  I  was  years  beyond  him  in 
the  gravest  respects.  And  if  there  was  any  truth  in 
what  Madeline  had  intimated,  possibly  I  had  been  at 
fault  for  not  impressing  this  fact  more  deeply  on  his 
mind. 

"  So  you  are  getting  sadly  behindhand  with  your  les- 
sons, Luther,"  I  said.  "  I  wish  you  would  make  a 
brave  effort  to  catch  up.  There  is  no  true  attainment  to 
be  reached  without  a  corresponding  degree  of  effort  —  of 
perseverance." 

I  spoke  with  a  serious  and  gracious  air,  as  though 
this  sentiment,  gleaned  from  a  profound  experience, 
had  occurred  to  me  as  an  idea  peculiarly  my  own. 

"  Never  mind  the  lessons  !  "  replied  my  audacious 
pupil,  brightly.  "  Teacher,"  he  added  presently,  having 
fallen  into  a  gently  musing  attitude ;  "  how  shiny  those 
crimples  in  your  hair  look,  with  that  streak  of  sun 
lighting  on  'em  !  " 

"  Luther,"  said  I,  very  gravely :  "  you  ought  not  to 
talk  to  me  about  my  hair.  Suppose  we  give  our  atten- 
tion to  these  books.  Now  you  were  getting  along  so 
fast,  I'm  very  sorry ' 

'•  Do  you  think  I'm  to  blame,  teacher  ? "  exclaimed 
Luther,  earnestly.  "  There  wasn't  a  stick  of  wood  to 


1 32  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

be  had  in  our  house  this  morning !  And  I've  had  to  be 
off,  all  day,  chopping,  with  Scudder  —  you  ought  to 
have  seen  the  black  snake  we  killed  this  morning.  It 
was  six  feet  long.  If  you  don't  believe  it,  Scudder's 
got  the  carcass.  It  was  lying  all  curled  up  in  the  bushes 
with  its  head  up  so  —  'you  watch  him,  Lute,'  says 
Scudder,  '  and  I'll  run  and  get  the  axe  ! '  I  couldn't 
help  laughing.  The  axe  was  over  the  other  side  of  the 
bog,  and  the  snake  began  to  stretch  himself  out  and 
slide  along.  I  brought  my  boot-heel  down  once  or 
twice  on  his  head,  about  as  quick  and  strong  as  I  could 
make  it.  I  killed  him.  It's  a  good  sign  to  kill  a 
snake,  teacher.  It's  a  good  sign  to  dream  of  killing 
one ;  but  you  come  across  one  so,  accidentally,  and 
kill  it,  and  it's  sure  to  bring  good  luck,  Granny 
says." 

"  That's  more  significant  than  a  great  many  of  your 
signs  and  symbols,"  I  said.  "  That  means  that  you  will 
slay  the  tempter  in  your  path,  and  be  successful  in  over- 
coming difficulties.  In  short,  it  means  that  whatever 
there  has  been  to  divert  you,  you  are  coming  back  to 
the  resolve  to  study  and  improve  yourself  ;  to  be  al] 
the  stronger  for  having  a  few  chance  obstacles  to  dis- 
pose of." 

Luther's  head  began  to  droop  a  little.  I  thought  it 
was  time  that  the  melancholy  atmosphere  of  the  room 
should  have  begun  to  exercise  its  usual  depressive  effect 
on  his  spirits. 

"You  think  I  don't  like  the  books,  teacher/'  he  said. 
"  I  do,  but  there's  most  always  something  else  to  be 
doing.  Father's  lame.  He  can't  do  any  work,  and 
there's  the  rest  to  take  care  of.  First,  I  sat  up  nights 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  133 

to  study,  then  I  got  so  sleepy  I  couldn't.  But  I'd  got 
so  in  the  habit  of  coming  in  to  talk  a  little  while  after 
you  got  home  from  school,  teacher,  that  I  —  I  forgot  to 
forget  it.  Have  I  been  a  great  bother  to  you  ?  You've 
been  real  good.  I  don't  want  you  to  think  I  forget 
that.  And  if  I'd  had  a  chance  at  the  books  early,  or  to 
push  right  along  with  'em  now,  I  might  make  out  some 
thing  in  that  line." 

Luther  did  not  speak  complainingly,  nor  even  with 
hopeless  regret.  He  rose  and  stretched  himself,  with 
solemn  satisfaction,  to  the  extent  of  his  goodly  propor- 
tions. 

"But  I'm  a  man  now,  teacher,"  he  said.  "I  shall 
be  twenty  in  June,  and  life  is  short.  A  man  hasn't  got 
time  for  everything.  He'd  be  a  fool  to  waste  it  crying 
for  what  he  didn't  happen  to  have.  He'd  better  push 
along  and  work  for  the  best.  I  meant  to  tell  you.  I'm 
going  to  sea,  teacher  !  I'm  going  trading.  I  was  down 
to  New  Bedford,  to  see  Captain  Sparhauk  yesterday,  for 
I  was  out  with  him  once  before,  and  got  a  good  deal 
of  the  hang  of  the  business  then ;  and  he  offered  me  a 
place  on  his  ship  next  time  he  sails." 

Luther  stood  with  flushed  face,  regarding  me  with  a 
bright  restless  look  of  inquiry  in  his  eyes. 

"  Are  you  going  away,  really,  Luther  ?  I'm  very 
sorry  !  "  I  said. 

"You  don't  care  !  what  do  you  care  ?  "  he  exclaimed 
almost  rudely,  with  an  unnatural  touch  of  hardness  in 
his  laugh.  "  It's  the  way  you  talk  to  all  the  rest.  A 
fellow  might  get  to  thinking  too  much  about  it.  A 
fellow  might  get  to  caring  —  if  he  believed  it  —  I  don't." 

"  What  makes  you  think  I  shouldn't  care  if  you  were 


134 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


going  away  ? "  I  continued,  with  the  dispassionately 
gentle  and  reproving  tone  I  considered  it  wisest  to 
assume  on  the  occasion.  "  I  should  care,  I  should  be 
very  sorry.  Come  and  sit  down  here,  please,  and  tell 
me  all  about  it,  when  you  are  going,  and  where,  and 
what  you  are  going  for  ?  " 

Luther  came  slowly  back  to  the  light.  He  seemed 
verily  to  have  grown  older  and  handsomer  in  a  moment 
I  experienced  a  deeper  feeling  of  regret  than  ever  before, 
that  the  circumstances  of  his  life  could  not  have  been 
conducive  to  heroism. 

"  The  captain  couldn't  tell  me  just  when  he  should 
sail,"  said  he  ;  "  and  I'm  going  to  get  money.  I  know 
a  good  deal  of  the  Spanish  and  Portugal,  I  learned  to 
talk  them  before  —  and  I  shall  go  to  a  great  many 
places,  I  may  not  come  back  when  the  ship  does.  Say, 
what  strange  eyes  you've  got,  teacher ;  now  they're 
brown' —  and  now,  they're  black,  and  now,  they're  a  sort 
of  —  a  — purplish  gray." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  boy,"  I  exclaimed,  with  a  sudden  acces- 
sion of  wisdom,  sighing  deeply ;  "  you  ought  not  to  talk 
to  me  about  the  color  of  my  eyes."  At  the  same  time 
to  deepen  the  effect  of  this  condescending  tenderness,  I 
pushed  back  lightly  from  his  forehead  a  stray  lock  of 
hair  that  was  hanging  there. 

"  Don't  do  that !  "  the  boy  cried  with  startling  impet- 
uosity. "  Don't  call  me  that  again  !  I  mean,  teacher," 
he  went  on  in  a  gentler  tone,  though  none  the  less 
excitedly  ;  —  "if  you  should  know  somebody,  that  had 
set  his  heart  on  something,  very  much,  and  didn't  want 
anything  else  if  he  couldn't  have  that,  and  if  he  should 
know  that  he  hadn't  any  right  to  ask  for  it  now,  but  go 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  135 

off  and  work  for  it  real  hard,  and,  maybe  come  back 
lucky  in  a  few  years,  with  a  right  to  ask  for  it  then  ;  — 
do  you  think,  teacher,  that  there'd  be  any  chance  of  his 
finding  —  of  his  getting  what  he  wanted  most?  If  you 
were  in  anybody's  place,  now,  teacher,  would  you  give 
him  a  word  of  encouragement  to  try  ?  " 

"  I  think  that  the  person  you  speak  of  would  be  much 
more  likely  to  succeed  in  a  practical  undertaking,  with- 
out any  hallucination  of  that  sort  before  his  eyes  —  and 
if,  as  you  say,  it  isn't  right  that  he  should  ask  for  it 
now,  can  we  predict  that  it  would  be  any  more  reasona- 
ble and  expedient  in  the  future  ?  These  idle  fancies  of 
ours  soon  pass  away,  Luther,  and  will  look  laughable  and 
grotesque  enough  to  us  by  and  by.  Life  is  so  full  of 
changes,  and  people  change,  oh,  so  much  !  " 

In  spite  of  the  vanity  of  my  soul,  I  comforted  myself 
with  the  reflection  that  Luther  would  not  care  long. 
I  did  not  really  believe  that  he  would  go  to  sea.  I  stood 
with  him  a  moment  in  the  door  of  Grandma's  kitchen. 
He  looked  over  to  the  woods,  behind  which  the  water 
lay,  and  the  fire  and  impatience  had  all  gone  out  of  his 
manner.  His  gentleness  touched  me  deeply,  yet  I  was 
determined  not  to  feel  his  hurt,  nor  —  "  if  only  the  cir- 
cumstances of  his  life  had  been  different "  —  what  might 
have  been  mine  also  ! 

"  Hark !  It's  high  tide.  It's  making  quite  a  fuss 
over  there,'"'  he  said.  "  I  think  a  man  feels  more  quiet 
somehow,  when  he's  out  there,  teacher.  Father  says  I'm 
a  wild  chap  and  uneasy.  I  guess  that's  so.  I  can  take 
care  of  them  just  as  well  too  if  I  go,  and  better.  Only 
if  I  should  die  —  "  there  was  nothing  affected  or  forlorn 
in  the  Cradlebow's  tone  —  "  I  should  like  to  be  buried 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


on  the  hill,  with  father's  folks.  You've  been  across  there. 
You  look  one  way  and  there's  the  river,  oftenest  still  — 
and  the  other  way,  you  hear  the  old  Bay  scooting  along 
the  sand.  I  like  it,  being  used  to  hearing  it  go  always. 
Granny  says  it  makes  a  difference  then,  where  you  lie, 
about  the  resting  easy.  I  don't  know.  Sometimes  it 
seems  as  though  I  should  rest  easier  there." 

"  A  dissertation  on  the  graveyard,"  I  began  in  a  tone 
of  affected  lightness,  and  then  paused,  convicted  of 
untruth  by  the  solemn  light  in  the  Cradlebow's  strange, 
grand  eyes. 


CAPE  COD   FOLKS.  137 


CHAPTER    VII. 

LUTE  CRADLEBOW    KISSES   THE   TEACHER. 

ALLENCAMP  had  its  peculiar  seasons.  After 
the  season  of  hulled  corn,  came  the  reign  of 
baked  beans.  It  was  during  this  latter  dispen- 
sation that  my  courage  failed  considerably. 

Madeline  used  to  remark,  throwing  a  rare  musical  halo 
about  her  words  :  "  These  beans  are  better  than  they 
look.  Ain't  they,  teacher  ? " 

And  I  was  wont  to  reply  conscientiously  enough, 
though  with  a  sweetly  wearied  glance  at  the  familiar 
dish  ;  "  Certainly,  they  do  taste  better  than  they  look." 

Occasionally  we  had  what  Harvey  Dole  called, 
"squash  on  the  shell,"  an  ingenious  term  for  the  last 
of  the  winter  pumpkins  boiled  in  halves,  and  served  au 
naturel. 

Grandpa,  too,  pined  and  put  away  his  food.  He  used 
to  look  across  the  table  at  me,  with  a  feeble  appeal  for 
sympathy  in  his  expression.  Oftentimes  he  sighed 
deeply,  and  related  anecdotes  redolent  of  "  red  salmon  " 
and  "  deer  flesh,"  "  strawberries  as  big  as  teacups " 
and  "  peaches  as  big  as  pint  bowls,"  in  places  where  he 
had  sailed. 

Once,  he  ventured  to  remark,  apologetically,  referring 
to  the  beans  and  pumpkins,  that  "  bein'  sich  a  mild  win 


I38  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

ter,  somehow  he  didn't  hanker  arter  sech  bracin'  food, 
and  he  guessed  he'd  go  over  to  Ware'am,  and  git  some 
pork." 

"  Wall,  thar'  now,  pa !  "  said  Grandma  ;  "  seems  to  me 
we'd  ought  ter  consider  all  the  fruits  o'  God's  bounty 
as  good  and  relishin'  in  their  season." 

"  I  call  that  punkin  out  of  season,"  said  Grandpa, 
recklessly.  "  Strikes  me  so." 

"I  was  talkin'  about  fruits.  I  wasn't  talkin'  about 
punkins,"  said  Grandma,  with  derisive  collusiveness. 

"  Wall,"  said  Grandpa,  very  much  aroused,  "  if  you 
call  them  tarnal  white  beans  the  fruits  of  God,  I  don't ! " 

"  Don't  you  consider  that  God  made  beans,  pa  ? " 

"  No,  I  don't !  " 

•'Who,  then  — "  continued  Grandma,  in  an  awful 
tone — "do  you  consider  made  beans,  pa?  " 

Grandpa's  eyes,  as  he  glared  at  the  dish,  were  large 
and  round,  and  significant  of  unspeakable  things. 

"  Bijonah  Keeler  !  "  Grandma  hastened  to  say ;  "  my 
ears  have  heard  enough  !  " 

As  for  Grandma,  neither  her  appetite,  nor  her  spirits, 
flagged.  In  spite  of  her  confirmed  habit  of  tantalizing 
Grandpa  —  and  this  was  from  no  malevolence  of  motive, 
but  simply  as  the  conscientious  fulfilment  of  a  sacred 
religious  and  domestic  duty  —  she  was  the  most  delight- 
ful soul  I  ever  knew. 

At  supper,  it  was  a  habit  for  her  to  sit  at  the  table 
long  after  we  had  finished  our  meal,  and  to  continue 
eating  and  talking  in  her  slow,  automatic,  sublimely 
philosophical  manner,  until  not  a  vestige  of  anything 
eatable  remained,  and  then  as  she  rose,  she  would 
remark,  simply,  with  a  glance  at  the  denuded  board :  — 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


139 


"  It  beats  all,  how  near  you  guessed  the  vittles  to- 
night, daughter !  " 

Then  Grandma  resorted  to  an  occasional  pastime, 
harmless  and  playful  enough  in  itself,  yet  intended  as  a 
special  means  of  discipline  for  Grandpa,  and  certainly, 
a  source  of  great  torment  and  anxiety  to  that  poor  old 
man. 

Between  the  hours  of  eight  and  nine  P.  M.,  Grandma 
would  deftly  glide  out  of  the  family  circle,  and  be  seen 
no  more  that  night.  At  bedtime,  Grandpa  would  begin 
the  search,  while  Madeline  and  I  ungenerously  retired. 

In  the  privacy  of  my  own  chamber,  I  could  hear  the 
old  Captain  tramping  desolately  about  the  Ark,  calling, 
"  Ma  !  ma  !  "  Could  hear  the  outside  door  swung  open, 
and  imagine  Grandpa's  wild  face  peering  into  the  dark- 
ness, while  still  he  called ;  "  Ma  !  ma !  where  be  ye  ? 
It's  half  after  ten  !  " 

Then,  from  the  foot  of  the  stairs  would  arise  his  dis- 
tressed, appealing  cry ;  "  Come,  ma,  where  be  ye  ?  It's 
half  after  ten !  "  Silence  everywhere.  With  a  mighty 
groan,  Grandpa  would  come  shuffling  up  the  steep  stairs, 
and  what  was  most  remarkable,  Grandma  was  invariably 
found  secluded  amid  the  rubbish  in  the  old  garret. 
Then  the  whisperings  that  arose  between  those  two 
would  have  pierced  through  denser  substances  by  far 
than  the  little  red  door  which  separated  me  from  the 
scene. 

"  How'd  I  know,  ma,  but  what  you'd  gone  out  and 
broke  yer  leg,  or  somethin'  ?  Come,  ma — "  with  exas- 
perated persuasiveness  —  "  what  do  ye  want  to  pester 
me  this  way  for  ?  " 

''Why,  pa,"   aro*e  the  calm,   mellifluous  accents  of 


1 40  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

Grandma  Keeler,  "  so't  you  might  know  how  you'd  feel 
if  I  should  be  took  away  ! " 

Next,  the  little  staircase  would  resound  with  loud 
creaks  and  groans,  as  this  reunited  couple  cautiously 
—  and  I  have  no  doubt,  that  they  believed  the  whole 
affair  had  been  conducted  with  the  utmost  secrecy  — 
made  their  way  down  in  their  stocking  feet. 

Grandma  —  Heaven  bless  her,  always  devoted,  though 
original  —  never  saw  a  human  ill  that  she  did  not  long 
to  alleviate.  So,  as  Grandpa  and  I  daily  refused  our 
food,  she  affirmed,  as  her  opinion,  that  the  one  need  of 
our  deranged  systems  was  a  clarifier  !  And  she  forth- 
with prepared  a  mixture  of  onions  and  molasses,  with 
various  bitter  roots,  which  latter  she,  upon  her  knees, 
had  wrested  from  the  frosty  bosom  of  the  earth  in  an 
arena  immediately  adjoining  the  Ark.  Thus  I  beheld 
her  one  wintry  day,  and  wondered  greatly  what  she  was 
at.  When  I  came  home  from  school  at  night,  through 
a  strangely  permeated  atmosphere,  I  beheld  the  clarifier 
simmering  on  the  stove. 

Grandpa  already  stood  shivering  over  the  fire.  He 
smiled  when  I  came  in,  but  it  was  a  faint  and  deathly 
smile  —  the  smile  of  one  who  has  returned,  per  force, 
to  weak,  defenceless  infancy. 

Grandma  pressed  me  kindly  to  partake.  I  preferred 
to  keep  what  ills  I  had,  rather  than  fly  to  others  that 
I  knew  not  of.  So  I  gently  and  firmly  declined.  But 
for  several  days  in  succession,  Grandpa  was  made  the 
victim  of  this  ghastly  remedy. 

His  sufferings  went  beyond  the  power  of  mad  expos- 
tulation to  express,  and  came  nigh  to  produce  upon  his 
features  the  aspect  of  a  saintly  resignation. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


141 


Never  shall  I  forget  his  appearance  during  this  clari- 
fying period  —  his  occasional  faint  and  fleeting  attempts 
at  wit  —  his  usually  hopeless  and  world-weary  air.  The 
wonder  to  me  was  that  he  did  not  then  enter  upon  a  celes- 
tial state  of  existence,  being  eminently  fitted  to  go,  as  far 
as  the  attenuation  of  his  mortal  frame  was  concerned.  It 
was  at  this  time  that  I  wrote  home  that  I  had  never  had 
such  an  appetite  before  in  my  life  as  now  in  Wallen- 
camp  (which,  in  one  sense,  I  felt  to  be  perfectly  true) ; 
that  the  food  was  of  a  most  remarkable  variety 
(which  I  also  felt  to  be  true)  ;  but  that  it  was  rather 
difficult  to  procure  oranges  and  the  like.  Whereupon, 
I  received  from  home  a  large  box,  containing  all  man- 
ner of  pleasant  fruits,  and  thus  poor  old  Grandpa  Keeler 
and  I  were  enabled  to  take  a  new  lease  of  life. 

I  found  that  it  was  considered  indispensable  to  the 
proper  discharge  of  my  duties  in  Wallencamp  that  I 
should  make  frequent  calls  on  the  parents  of  my  flock, 
throughout  the  entire  community.  If  I  failed  in  any 
measure  in  this  respect,  they  reproached  me  with  being 
"unsociable,"  and  said;  "Seems  to  me  you  ain't  very 
neighborly,  teacher." 

I  had  called  myself  a  student  of  human  nature.  It 
seemed  to  me,  now,  that  in  those  dingy  Wallencamp 
houses,  I  stood  for  the  first  time,  awed  and  delighted 
before  the  real  article.  Sometimes  the  men  sent  out 
great  volumes  of  smoke  from  their  pipes,  in  the  low 
rooms,  that  were  not  delightful ;  but  as  far  as  they 
knew,  they  exerted  themselves  to  the  utmost,  men  and 
women  both,  to  make  their  homes  pleasant  and  attract- 
ive to  me. 

Godfrey  Cradlebow's  place  was  as  small  and  poor  as 


1 42  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

any.  There  was  one  room  that  served  as  kitchen, 
dining-room,  and  parlor,  with  a  corresponding  medley 
of  furniture.  A  very  finely  chased  gold  watch  hung 
against  the  loose  brown  boards  of  the  wall  —  a  reminder 
of  Godfrey  Cradlebow's  youth.  But  what  distinguished 
this  house  from  all  the  others,  was  the  profusion  of 
books  it  contained.  There  were  books  on  the  tables, 
books  under  the  tables,  books  piled  up  in  the  corner 
of  the  room. 

Godfrey  Cradlebow  himself  was  confined  in-doors 
much  of  the  time  with  the  rheumatism.  He  made  nets 
for  the  fishermen.  I  used  to  like  to  watch  his  fingers 
moving  deftly  while  he  talked. 

Things  having  gone  wrong  with  him,  and  he  having 
suffered  much  acute  physical  pain,  besides  —  (that  was 
evident  from  the  manner  in  which  his  stalwart  frame  had 
been  bent  with  his  disease)  he  had  "  taken  to  drink,"  not 
excessively,  but  he  seemed  to  be,  most  of  the  time,  in  a 
lightly  inebriated  condition.  He  was  a  strange  and 
fluent  talker,  often  ecstatic. 

"  It  is  commonly  believed,  Miss  Hungerford,"  he  said 
to  me,  once ;  "  that  we  start  on  the  summit  of  life,  that 
we  descend  into  the  valley,  that  the  sun  is  westering ; 
but  as  for  me,  I  seem  to  look  far  below  there  on  the 
mists  and  dew  of  earlier  years.  I  walk  among  the  hills. 
'The  horizon  widens.  The  air  grows  thin.  I  see  the 
solemn  streaks  of  dawn  appearing  through  the  gloom. 
Ah,"  he  murmured,  again  ;  "  weak  and  erring  though  I 
undoubtedly  am,  I  have  a  kinship  with  the  living  Christ. 
Yes,  even  such  kinship  as  human  worthlessness  may 
have  with  infinite  perfection.  People  will  say  to  you 
about  here,  Miss  Hungerford ;  '  Oh,  never  mind  Godfrey 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  143 

Cradlebow.  He's  always  being  converted,  why,  he  has 
been  converted  twenty  times  already  ! '  very  true,  ay,  and 
a  hundred  times,  and  I  trust  I  shall  taste  the  sweets  of 
conversion  many  times  more  before  I  die.  I  do  not 
believe  the  soul  to  be  a  barren  tract,  so  far  removed 
from  the  ocean  of  God's  love,  that  it  may  be  washed  by 
the  waves  only  once  in  a  lifetime,  and  that,  in  case  of 
some  terrible  flood.  But  I  rejoice  daily  in  the  sweet 
and  natural  return  of  the  tide.  How  the  shores  wait  for 
it !  Strewn  with  weeds  and  wreck,  scorched  by  the  sun, 
chilled  by  the  night,  how  it  listens  for  the  sound  of  its 
coming!  until  it  rushes  in  —  ah!  roar  after  roar  —  all- 
covering,  all-hiding,  all-embracing  ! " 

Godfrey  Cradlebow  shook  his  head  rapturously,  tears 
rolled  down  his  cheeks,  and  all  the  while  he  went  on 
rapidly  with  his  netting. 

He  had  the  natural  tact  and  grace  of  a  gentleman, 
and  was  especially  courteous  to  his  wife.  This  brought 
down  upon  him  the  derision  of  the  Wallencampers, 
whose  conjugal  relation's  were  seldom  more  delicately 
implied  than  by  a  reference  —  "  my  woman  thar'  !  "  or 
"  my  man  over  thar' ! "  with  an  accompanying  jerk  of 
the  thumb. 

Lydia,  Godfrey  Cradlebow's  wife,  was  tall  and  slight, 
with  dark  hair  and  eyes  —  a  perfect  face,  though  worn 
and  sad.  She  invariably  wore  over  her  cotton  gown,  on 
occasions  when  she  went  out,  a  very  fine,  very  thin  old- 
fashioned  mantilla,  bordered  with  a  deep  black  fringe. 
This  pathetic  remnant  of  gentility,  borne  rudely  about 
by  the  Wallencamp  winds,  with  Lydia's  refined  face  and 
melancholy  dark  eyes,  gave  her  a  very  interesting  and 
picturesque  appearance  ;  though  I  never  thought  she 


144  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

wore  the  mantilla  during  the  winter  for  effect.  She  was 
shy,  though  exceedingly  gentle  in  her  manners.  At  first, 
I  had  thought  that  she  avoided  me.  But  one  time,  when 
making  the  round  of  my  parochial  calls,  I  stopped  at 
the  Cradlebows',  and  Mr.  Cradlebow  discoursing  fluently 
on  the  Phenomenon,  recommended  a  severe  method  of 
discipline  as  best  adapted  to  his  case,  I  replied,  laugh- 
ingly, that  he  had  better  be  cautious  about  making  any 
suggestions  of  that  sort,  for  Simeon  and  I  were  getting 
to  be  great  friends  ;  the  mother,  on  whose  heart  I  had 
had  no  design,  took  my  hand  at  the  door,  when  I  went 
away,  in  a  clinging,  almost  an  affectionate  way. 

"  You  are  good  to  my  boys,  teacher,"  she  said  ;  "  and 
I  thank  you  for  it.  They  make  you  a  great  deal  of 
trouble." 

"  Oh,  no,"  I  answered  lightly,  returning  with  a  sense 
of  pleasure  the  pressure  of  her  hand,  and  it  was  not 
until  afterwards,  walking  slowly  down  the  lane  that  I 
sighed  gently,  thinking  of  that  troublesome  boy  who  had 
told  me  he  was  going  to  sea. 

Removed  from  the  world  of  newspapers,  the  ordinary 
active  interest  in  the  affairs  of  church  and  state,  there 
was  a  great  deal  of  the  lively  gadding  about,  neighborly 
dropping  in  element  in  Wallencamp.  This  applied  to 
the  men  equally  as  well  as  to  the  women.  I  remember 
that  Abbie  Ann  once  put  out  her  washing,  and  this  fact 
kept  the  whole  social  element  of  Wallencamp  on  the 
qui  vive  for  a  number  of  days. 

The  caller  would  appear  at  the  door  at  anytime  during 
the  day  with  a  good-natured  matter-of-fact  "  I  was  a 
passin'  by,  and  thought  I'd  drop  in  a  minit,  jest  to  see 
how  ye  was  gittin'  along." 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  145 

"  Won't  you  set  ? "  would  be  the  cordial  response. 
'Do  set." 

"  Wall,  I  don't  know  how  to  spend  the  time  anyway," 
the  visitor  would  reply  ;  "  there's  so  many  things  a  drivin' 
on  me." 

But  this  care-belabored  victim  of  fate  usually  con- 
cluded by  sitting  quite  complacently  for  any  length  of 
time. 

When  such  visitations  occurred  out  of  school  hours, 
and  I  remained  up  in  my  room,  as  I  frequently  did  at 
first,  the  droppers  in  felt  very  much  aggrieved,  as  though 
I  had  wittingly  offended  the  instincts  of  good  society. 

Besides  all  which,  seldom  an  evening  passed  that  the 
young  people  did  not  come  to  the  Ark  en  masse  to 
sing. 

Then  Madeline  or  Rebecca,  or  (very  rarely)  I  pro- 
pelled a  strain  of  doubtful  melody  from  Madeline's  little 
melodeon,  while  the  singers  —  boys  and  girls  together  — 
chimed  in,  joyfully  rendering  with  a  perfect  fearlessness 
of  utterance  and  deep  intensity  of  expression  such  songs 
as  "Go,  bury  thy  sorrow,  the  world  hath  its  share,"  and 
"  Jesus,  keep  me  near  the  cross,"  and  "  Whiter  than 
snow,  yes,  whiter  than  snow ;  now  wash  me,  and  I  shall 
be  whiter  than  snow." 

They  knew  no  other  songs.  They  would  sing  through 
a  large  proportion  of  the  Moody  and  Sankey  Hymnal  in 
a  single  evening. 

At  first  I  listened  half  amused  or  thoroughly  wearied. 
But,  as  the  strains  grew  more  familiar  and  I  sang  occa- 
sionally with  the  others,  I  felt  each  day  more  tired  and 
more  conscious  of  my  own  incompetency.  And  still  the 
words  rang  in  my  ears ;  "  I  hear  the  Saviour  say,  thy 


I46  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

strength  indeed  is  small  ;  "  with  much  about  trusting  in 
Him,  and  his  willingness  to  bear  it  all.  As  the  wind 
beat  against  the  Ark  on  wild  nights,  so  that  we  could 
hardly  tell  which  was  the  wind  and  which  was  the  roar 
of  the  maddened  sea,  and  still  those  voices  chanted 
hopefully  of  the  "  stormless  home  beyond  the  river,"  etc., 
the  words  began  to  strike  on  something  deeper  than  my 
physical  or  intellectual  sense,  and  that  not  rudely. 

I  smiled  to  catch  myself  humming  them  over  often, 
and  in  the  school-room,  when  I  felt  that  my  patience  was 
fast  oozing,  and  I  experienced  a  wild  desire  to  loose  the 
reins  and  let  all  go,  unconsciously  I  took  refuge  in 
repeating  those  same  simple  words,  going  over  with  them, 
again  and  again,  beneath  my  breath,  holding  on  to  them 
as  though  they  possessed  some  unknown  charm  to  keep 
me  still  and  strong. 

I  went  to  the  evening  meetings.  They  were  held  in 
the  school-house,  and  were  very  popular  in  Wallen- 
camp. 

By  some  provision  of  the  government  on  behalf  of 
the  Indians,  a  small  meeting-house  had  been  built  for 
those  in  the  vicinity  of  Wallencamp,  and  they  were  also 
provided  with  a  minister  for  several  months  during  the 
year.  On  this  account  the  Indians  rather  set  themselves 
up  above  the  benighted  Wallencampers,  whom  govern- 
ment had  not  endowed  with  the  privileges  of  the  sanctu- 
ary, while  they,  in  turn,  made  derisive  allusions  to  the 
"  Nigger-camp  "  minister,  and  regarded  with  contempt  its 
prescribed  means  of  grace. 

The  Indians  enjoyed,  for  part  of  the  time  that  I  was 
in  Wallencamp,  the  ministrations  of  a  Baptist  clergyman, 
a  truly  earnest  and  intelligent  man,  gifted  with  a  most 


THE   INDIAN   CAMP   MEETING    HOUSE.      Page    146 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  I47 

forceful  manner  of  utterance,  but  so  lean  as  to  present  a 
phenomenal  appearance.  This  good  man  feared  nothing 
but  that  he  should  fail  in  some  part  of  the  performance 
of  his  duty.  He  believed  that  it  was  his  duty  to  come 
over  and  preach  to  the  Wallencampers  also,  in  their 
school-house,  and  he  did  so. 

I  think  that  the  Wallencampers  regarded  this,  on  the 
whole,  as  a  doubtful  though  entertaining  move. 

I  do  not  think  that  they  took  any  particular  pains  to 
harass  or  annoy  the  Rev.  Mr.  Rivers.  But  they  certainly 
did  not  restrict  themselves  in  that  natural  freedom  which 
they  always  enjoyed  on  the  occasions  of  their  spiritual 
feasts. 

They  attended,  as  usual  - —  the  old  and  the  young,  the 
good,  the  bad,  the  indifferent,  with  a  lively  sprinkling  of 
babies. 

Though  not  a  cold  night,  they  kept  the  stove  gorged 
with  fuel.  It  roared  furiously.  They  were  restless. 
They  made  signs  audibly  expressive  of  the  fact  that  the 
air  of  the  room  was  insufferably  close,  and  very  audibly 
slammed  up  the  windows.  They  whispered  and  giggled  ; 
they  went  out  and  came  in,  as  they  pleased.  They 
drank  a  great  deal  of  water.  I  remember  particularly, 
how  at  the  most  earnest  and  affecting  part  of  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Rivers'  discourse,  the  immortal  Estella,  alias  the 
"  Modoc,"  arose  in  gawky  innocence  and  all  good  faith 
from  her  seat  immediately  in  front  of  the  speaker,  and 
walked  to  the  back  part  of  the  room  to  regale  herself 
with  a  draught. 

The  Baptist  minister  discharged  a  withering  and  con 
scientious  reproof  at  them  through  his  nose. 

Now,  for  the  Wallencampers  to  be  reproved,  however 


148  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

scathingly,  by  some  zealous  and  inspired  individual  of 
their  own  number,  was  considered,  on  the  whole,  as  an 
apt  and  appropriate  thing,  but  to  be  reproved  by  the 
"  Nigger-camp  "  minister  !  When,  after  the  meeting  he 
walked  with  the  Keeler  family  back  to  the  Ark,  where  he 
had  been  hospitably  entertained,  the  Wallencamp  boys 
saw  us  depart  in  silent  wrath,  and  I  feared  that  treachery- 
lay  in  wait  for  the  Rev.  Mr.  Rivers. 

He  sat  and  talked  with  us  at  the  Ark  for  an  hour  or 
more,  perhaps,  before  bidding  us  good-night,  and  during 
that  time  I  caught  glimpses  of  faces  that  appeared  at 
the  window,  and  then  vanished  again  instantly — 
familiar  faces,  expressive  of  much  scornful  merriment. 
Now  and  then  I  heard  a  smothered  giggle  outside,  and 
a  scrambling  among  the  bushes.  It  was  a  dark  night. 
When  the  Rev.  Mr.  Rivers  finally  rose  to  depart,  and  had 
got  as  far  as  the  gate,  he  became  helplessly  entangled 
in  a  perfect  network  of  small  ropes.  He  could  neither 
advance  nor  recede.  In  a  pitiable  and  ignominious  con- 
dition, he  called  to  us  for  help. 

"  Those  devilish  boys  !  "  said  Grandpa,  with  religious 
fervor  of  tone,  at  the  same  time  glancing  at  me  with  a 
delighted  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "  I  knew  they  was  up  to 
something.  I  heered  'em  out  there  ;  "  and  he  patiently 
lit  his  lantern,  and  went  out  to  cut  the  minister  free  ; 
but  the  Rev.  Mr.  Rivers  did  not  come  to  the  Wallen- 
camp school-house  to  preach  again. 

Among  those  who  looked  on  with  quiet  approval  at 
this  childish  and  barbarous  performance  of  the  Wallen- 
camp youth,  I  learned  afterwards,  were  staid  Lovell 
Barlow  and  little  Bachelor  Lot. 

Left  to  their  own  spiritual  devices,  the  Wallencampers 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


149 


carried  on  their  evening  meetings  after  methods  formerly 
approved.  They  rose  and  talked  —  or  prayed  —  or 
diverted  themselves  socially  —  or  sang.  Everything 
they  were  moved  to  do>  they  did. 

The  lame  giant,  Godfrey  Cradlebow,  at  seasons  when 
the  tide  came  in,  would  pour  forth  the  utterances  of  his 
soul  with  the  most  earnest  eloquence.  At  other  times, 
he  was  morbid  and  silent,  or  made  skeptical  and  sneering 
remarks  aside. 

Lovell  Barlow,  though  generally  regarded  as  a  believer, 
had  never  so  far  overcome  his  natural  modesty  and 
reserve  as  to  address  the  Wallencamp  meeting.  But 
one  night,  spurred  to  make  the  attempt  by  some  of  his 
malicious  and  fun-loving  compatriots,  he  surprised  us  all 
by  rising  with  a  violent  motion  from  his  seat,  and  mak- 
ing a  sudden  plunge  forward  as  though  his  audience 
were  a  cold  bath,  and  he  had  determined  to  wade  in. 

"  Boys  !  "  he  began,  with  a  most  unnatural  ferocious- 
ness. Then  I  felt  Lovell's  eyes  fixed  on  my  face.  "  And 
girls,  too,"  he  added,  more  gently ;  "  and  girls,  too, 
certainly,  /think  so;"  he  continued;  "/  think  so." 
His  tone  became  very  feeble.  He  glanced  about  with  a 
wild  eye  for  his  hat,  grasped  it,  and  went  out,  and  I  saw 
him  afterwards,  through  the  window,  standing  like  a 
statue,  in  the  moonlight,  with  his  arms  folded,  and  with 
a  perfectly  cold  and  emotionless  cast  of  countenance. 

Among  the  professors,  Godfrey  Cradlebow's  mother, 
Aunt  Sibylla,  with  quite  as  much  fire  and  less  delicacy 
of  expression  than  characterized  the  speech  of  the 
strange  lame  man,  was  always  ready  to  warn,  threaten, 
and  exhort. 

Grandpa  Keeler,   too,  though  not   subjected   to  the 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

renovating  and  rejuvenating  processes  of  the  Sabbath, 
but  just  touched  up  a  little  here  and  there,  enough  to 
give  him  a  slight  "  odor  of  sanctity,"  and  a  saving  sense 
of  personal  discomfort,  was  always  led  to  the  meeting, 
and  kept  close  by  Grandma  Keeler's  side  on  the  most 
prominent  bench. 

When  there  was  one  of  those  frightful  pauses  which 
sometimes  occurred  even  in  the  cheerful  concourse  of 
the  Wallencampers,  casting  a  depressing  influence 
over  all  hearts,  Grandma  Keeler  by  a  series  of  covert 
pokes  and  nudges,  would  signify  to  Grandpa  that  now 
was  the  appointed  moment  for  him  to  arise  and  let  his 
light  shine. 

And  Grandpa  Keeler  was  not  a  timid  man,  but  since 
the  event  of  his  clarification,  he  had  shown  a  stronger 
dislike  than  ever  to  being  pestered,  and  was  abnormally 
quick  to  detect  and  resist  any  advances  of  that  kind. 
So  his  movements  on  these  occasions  were  marked  by 
an  angry  deliberation,  though  the  old  sea-captain  never 
failed  in  the  end,  to  arise  and  "  hand  in  his  testimony." 

His  remarks  were  (originally)  clear  cut  and  terse. 

"There's  no  need  o'  my  gittin'  up.  You  all  know 
how  I  stand  "  (an  admonitory  nudge  from  Grandma)  — 
"  What's  the  matter  now,  ma  ? "  I  could  hear  the  old 
man  swear,  mentally,  but  he  went  on  with  the  amend- 
ment—  "  or  try  to.  I'm  afeered  that  even  the  best  on 
us,  at  some  time  or  nuther,  have  been  up  to  some 
devil  " — (sly,  but  awfully  emphatic  nudge  from  Grandma) 
"  ahem  !  we're  all  born  under  a  cuss  !  "  persisted  Grand- 
pa, with  irate  satisfaction.  "  I've  steered  through  a 
good  many  oceans,"  he  continued,  more  softly,  "but 
thar'  ain't  none  so — misty — as  this  —  a — "  (porten- 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  151 

tous  nudge  from  Grandma,)  "as  this  pesky  ocean  of 
Life !  We've  got  to  keep  a  sharp  look-out "  (another 
nudge  from  Grandma),  "  ahem,  steer  clear  of  the  rocks," 
(persistent  nudges  from  Grandma),  "  ahem !  ahem  ! 
trust  in  God  Almighty !  "  admitted  Grandpa  with  telling 
force,  and  sat  down. 

As  for  Grandma,  she  was  herself  always  prompt  and 
faithful  in  the  discharge  of  duty,  however  trying  the 
circumstances.  She  was-  no  hypocrite,  this  dear  old 
soul!  She  could  not  have  feigned  sentiments  which 
she  did  not  feel,  yet  it  was  invariably  the  case  that,  as 
she  rose  in  meeting,  her  usually  cheerful  face  became  in 
the  highest  degree  tearful  and  lugubrious.  The  thought 
of  so  many  precious  souls  drifting  toward  destruction 
filled  her  tender  heart  with  woe.  She  besought  them 
in  the  gentlest  and  most  persuasive  terms  to  "  turn  to 
Jesus."  She  dwelt  long  upon  His  love,  standing  always 
with  hands  reverently  clasped  before  her,  and  eyes  down- 
cast with  awe. 

I  used  to  long  to  hear  her  speak.  The  sound  of  that 
low,  tender  monotone  was  in  itself  inexpressibly  sooth- 
ing. But  Grandma's  tongue  had  its  mild  edge,  as 
well. 

Once,  when  she  was  speaking,  a  number  of  the  young 
people — it  was  a  common  occurrence  —  rose  to  go 
out. 

Grandma  went  on  talking  without  raising  either  her 
voice  or  her  eyes ;  but  when  they  had  reached  the 
door,  "  What  — "  said  she,  in  that  tone  which,  though 
so  mild,  somehow  unaccountably  arrested  their  prog- 
ress ;  "  what  —  poor,  wanderin'  creeturs  —  if  your  under- 
standing should  give  out ! "  meaning,  what  if  you 


152  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

should  suddenly  be  deprived  of  the  use  of  your  legs  ! 
"Have  you  never  heered,"  she  continued;  "the  story 
of  Antynias  and  Sapf/ry  ?  " 

But  she  did  not  recount  the  tale.  If  possible,  she 
would  rather  use  words  of  love  than  of  maledic- 
tion. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  faithful  manner  in  which  she 
narrated  Abraham's  intercession  with  the  Lord  for  So- 
dom and  Gomorrah. 

"And  Abraham  said  to  the  Lord,  '  Periodventure 
there  be  fifty  righteous  found,'  he  said ;  '  wiliest  thou 
destroy  the  city,  and  them  in  it  ?  Oh,  no !  that  ain't 
like  the  Lord,'  he  says ;  '  for  to  slay  the  righteous  and 
the  wicked  together — fur  be  it.'  And  the  Lord  says; 
'  No.  If  I  find  fifty  righteous  I'll  spare  all  the  rest,'  he 
says,  'on  account  o'  them  fifty,'  he  says :  and  Abraham 
says.  '  O  Lord,  now  I've  begun,'  he  says,  '  and  you 
don't  seem  so  very  much  put  out  with  me  as  I  expected, 
I've  a  good  mind  to  keep  on  askin'  ye  a  little  more, 
jest  to  see  what  ye'll  say,'  he  says  ;  '  O  Lord,  period- 
venture  what  if  there  shouldn't  be  but  forty-five  ? '  he 
says." 

Grandma  went  through  the  list  of  "  periodventures," 
depicting  Abraham's  growing  fear  and  obsequiousness 
in  the  most  tragic  manner  until  she  got  to  the  hypothet- 
ical ten. 

"And  Abraham  said;  'O  Lord,  I  know  you  won't 
like  it  this  time,  but  I've  gone  so  fur  now,  that  I'm  going 
to  out  with't;  and  don't — don't  git  put  out,  O  Lord! 
and  I  won't  put  it  one  mite  lower.  Periodventure,  O 
Lord,  what  if  there  shouldn't  be  but  ten  ? '  and  the  Lord 
said,  '  If  there  wasn't  but  ten,  he  wouldn't  destroy  them 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  ^3 

wicked  cities.'  Now,"  continued  Grandma,  with  tearful 
impressiveness,  "  if  Abraham  had  even  a  ventured  to 
put  it  down  one  five  more,  what  more  chance  do  you 
think  there'd  be  for  us  here  in  Wallencamp  ? " 

After  the  meeting,  Captain  Sartell  and  Bachelor  Lot 
held  their  usual  theological  levee,  outside  the  school- 
house. 

"  Wall,  Bachelder,"  said  the  captain,  who  always 
took  the  initiative  with  extreme  recklessness ;  "  if  it  was 
a  goin'  to  take  ten  to  clear  Sodom  and  Germorrer,  how 
many  righteous  men  do  you  calkalate  it  'ud  take  ter 
lift  the  mortgage  off'n  this  ere  peninsheler,  eh  ? " 

Bachelor  Lot  was  unusually  thoughtful. 

"  Heh  !  "  said  he,  in  his  thin  drawl.  "  The  Lord  knew 
he  was  seafe  enough  —  knew  he'd  a  been  seafe  enough  if 
he'd  a  said  tew;  knew  he'd  a  been  seafe  enough  if  he'd 
a  said  eone,  for  there's  his  own  statement  to  the 
effect  —  heh!  —  that  there  wasn't  a  righteous  man 
eanywhere,  no,  not  eone." 

"Not  much  leeway,  that's  a  fact,  Bachelder,"  said 
Captain  Sartell,  who  had  an  embarrassed  way,  partic- 
ularly when  discussing  subjects  of  a  religious  nature,  of 
twisting  his  powerful  blonde  head  about,  and  swallowing 

very  hard.  "  D d  little  leeway,  I  must  confess,  — 

wall  —  all  the  same  tor  you  and  me,  Bachelder." 

Bachelor  Lot  smiled  a  little. 

"  Heh !  What  was  it  about  that  couple,  Almiry 
(Grandma  Keeler)  was  tellin'  about  —  Antynias  and 
Sapf/ry  —  heh,  Captain  ?  What  streuck  'em  eany  way  ? 
It  wasn't  because  they  went  out  o'  meetin',  was  it  ?  I 
think  it  would  be  a  satisfaction  to  the  company,  Cap- 
tain, if  you  would  relate  the  circumstance." 


154  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

The  brave  and  honest  captain  craned  his  neck  about 
torith  several  hard  gulps. 

"Wall,  to  tell  the  truth,  Bachelder,  I  ain't  quite  so 
well  posted  with  the  Old  Testament  as  I  be  with  the 
New,  but,"  he  continued,  resolutely,  "  if  it  would  be  any 
favor  to  the  company  —  as  near  as  I  calkalate,  this  ere 
Antynias  heered  that  the  Lord  was  a  goin'  by,  and,  as 
near  as  I  calkalate,  he  dim'  up  in  a  tree  to  see  him 
pass."  The  captain  writhed  fearfully,  but  did  not  flinch. 
"  And,  as  near  as  I  calkalate,  he  got  on  to  a  rotten 
limb,  and  it  let  him  down.  That  is,''  he  remarked,  with 
concluding  agony,  "  as  near  as  I  calkalate." 

"  Heh !  yees,  much  obleeged,  I'm  sure,"  said  Bache- 
lor Lot.  "  I,  heh !  I  recall  the  anecdote  now,  perfectly, 
but  wheere  —  wheere  was  Sapf/ry  ?" 

"  Wall,"  the  captain  gave  a  gulp  that  actually  brought 
the  tears  to  his  eyes ;  "  as  near  as  I  calkalate,  Sapf/ry 
was  under  the  limb." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Bachelor  Lot ;  "  certainly  !  and  a 
veery  unfortunate  poseetion  for  Sapf/ry  it  was,  too. 
I  weesh  you  would  be  so  kind  as  to  eenf  orm  the  company 
in  what  part  of  the  Sacred  Writ  this  little  anecdote  is 
recorded,  Captain,  as  I  for  one  should  very  much  leike 
to  look  it  up." 

Captain  Sartell  took  a  determined  step  forward. 
" Ixx)k  y'  here,  Bachelder,"  said  he  ;  "I  don't  want  no 
hard  words  betwixt  you  and  me,  for  there  never  has 
been.  But  a  man's  word  is  a  man's  word,  and  a  man's 
friends  had  ought  to  stick  by  it,  and  I  want  you  to 
understand  that,  on  this  ere  point,  I  ain't  agoin'  to  have 
no  lookin'  up." 

"  Heh !  "  Bachelor  Lot  smiled  and  nodded  his  head. 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  155 

cheerfully.  "  I'd  be  willing  to  waeger  my  life,  Captain, 
that  if  anybody's  made  a  mistake  on  this  point  —  heh  — 
it  ain't  you."  And  with  this  amicable  conclusion,  the 
two  stars  withdrew. 

George  Olver  sometimes  rose  in  meeting  and  made 
a  few  remarks  indicative  of  a  manly  spirit  and  much 
sound  common  sense.  He  was  very  fond  of  Rebecca, 
that  was  plain.  Her  continued  indifference  to  him  made 
him  sore  at  heart,  and  the  people  in  Wallencamp  sug- 
gested that  on  this  account  he  was  more  serious  than  he 
would  otherwise  have  been. 

As  for  Rebecca,  they  said  she  had  given  up  "seekin' 
religion,"  and  had  returned  to  the  world.  She  did  not 
rise  for  prayers  any  more,  and  she  did  not  "  lead  the 
singin'  "  any  more.  And  it  was  true  that  she  seemed 
to  me  to  have  changed,  somehow.  I  knew  that  she  was 
as  girlishly  devoted  to  me  as  ever,  as  thoughtful  as  ever 
to  please  me.  One  Saturday  morning,  knowing  that  I 
had  letters  in  the  West  Wallen  Post  Office,  which  I  was 
anxious  to  get  before  Sunday,  she  walked  the  whole 
distance  alone  to  get  them,  and  sent  them  up  to  me  by 
one  of  the  school  children,  so  that  I  should  not  know 
who  went  after  them.  She  was  careful  lest  I  should 
notice  any  change  in  her.  But  I  caught  a  reckless, 
mocking  gleam  in  her  eyes,  at  times,  that  had  never 
shone  there  when  I  knew  her  first.  She  associated  more 
with  the  "  other  girls,"  now.  I  heard  her  talking  and 
laughing  with  them  in  as  loud  and  careless  a  tone  as 
their  own.  She  even  whispered  and  laughed  in  the 
evening  meetings.  And  this,  after  all  the  earnest,  seri- 
ous discourse  I  had  had  with  her,  the  "refining," 
M  elevating  "  influences  I  had  tried  to  throw  around  her, 


156  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

having  first  taken  her  so  graciously  under  my  wing ! 
She  knew  what  belonged  to  agreeable  manners,  and  the 
advantage  of  paying  a  graceful  obedience  to  the  dic- 
tates of  one's  moral  sense  !  Something  must  be  very 
innately  wrong  in  Rebecca,  I  thought,  something  I  had 
not  hitherto  suspected,  else  why  should  she  fail  in  any 
degree  under  so  admirable  a  method  ! 

"  My  dear,"  I  said  to  her  :  "  I  am  often  tempted  to 
do  wrong  —  especially  because  my  life  has  been  hitherto 
so  vain  and  thoughtless  —  but,  having  resolved  to 
struggle  with  temptation,  and  to  repel  my  own  selfish 
inclinations,  I  will  not  be  content  until  I  come  off  con- 
queror ;  I  will  not  fall  out  or  loiter  by  the  way  ;  I  have 
trials  and  perplexities,  but  I  will  not  submit  to  them,  nor 
be  driven  from  my  purpose.  Now,  are  you  struggling 
to  resist  the  little  temptations  that  come  to  you  day  by 
day  ?  Are  you  striving  to  make  the  very  best  of  yourself, 
Becky  ?  " 

J  knew  how  easily  I  could  move  Rebecca,  either  to 
laughter  or  tears,  so  I  was  not  surprised  to  see  her  lip 
tremble,  and  her  eyes  fill ;  but  I  was  surprised  at  the 
look  of  intense  anguish,  almost  of  horror,  that  came 
into  her  face.  I  had  not  supposed  that  she  was  capable 
of  such  strong  emotion,  and  I  marvelled  greatly,  what 
could  be  the  cause. 

"  Oh,"  she  said  ;  "  you  don't  know,  teacher,  you  don't 
know  !  It  never  seemed  so  bad  before  I  knew  you.  I 
was  different  brought  up  from  you,  and  I  loved  you,  and 
when  I  knew,  oh,  then  I  could  die,  but  I  couldn't  tell 
you  !  Oh,  you  wouldn't  kiss  me  again,  ever,  if  you  knew ; 
and  I  wish  you  wouldn't,  for  it  hurts,  it  hurts  worse  than 
if  you  didn't  1 " 


CAPE    COD    FOLKS.  157 

Rebecca  had  turned  very  pale,  and  drew  her  breath  in 
long  gasping  sobs. 

"Baby!"  I  said  reassuringly,  stroking  her  hair;  "I 
don't  believe  you  have  done  anything  very  wrong."  But 
Rebecca  drew  away  from  me 

"You  don't  know,"  she  said.  "I  was  brought  up 
different  —  and  it  was  before  you  came,  and  I  never 
knew  that,  what  you  told  me  about  not  trusting  people. 
I  thought  it  was  all  true,  and  oh  !  —  there  ain't  anybody 
to  help !  Oh,  I  wish  I  was  dead !  I  wish  I  was 
dead  ! " 

"  Rebecca,"  I  said,  a  little  frightened,  and  convinced 
that  the  girl  had  some  serious  trouble  at  heart.  "  Tell 
me  what  the  trouble  is?  Has  anyone  deceived  you? 
And  why  should  any  one  wish  to  deceive  you, 
child?" 

Rebecca  only  moaned  and  shook  her  head. 

"  But  you  must  tell  me,"  I  said ;  "  I  can't  help  you 
unless  you  do." 

She  drew  herself  farther  away  from  me,  with  only  these 
convulsive  sobs  for  a  reply.  I  did  not  attempt  to  get 
nearer  to  her,  to  comfort  her  as  it  had  been  my  first 
impulse  to  do.  She  bad  repulsed  me  once.  "You  are 
nervous  and  excited,  my  dear,"  I  decided  to  say ;  "  and 
something  of  little  consequence,  probably,  looks  like  a 
mountain  of  difficulty  to  you.  At  any  rate,  when  you  get 
ready  to  confide  in  me,  you  must  come  to  me.  I  shall 
not  question  you  again." 

So  I  left  her,  less  with  a  feeling  of  commiseration  for 
her  than  with  a  deep  sense  of  my  own  pressing  burdens 
and  responsibilities. 

I  had  another  ex-pupil  (Rebecca  had  been  out  of  school 


158  CAPE    COD    FOLKS. 

for  several  weeks),  who  was  a  source  of  considerable 
anxiety  to  me  —  Luther  Larkin.  He  had  ceased  coming 
to  the  Ark  to  sing  with  the  others.  He  had  not  played 
on  his  violin  since  that  first  night  when  the  string 
broke. 

I  heard  that  he  had  gone  to  New  Bedford  ;  and  it  was 
a  day  or  two  afterwards  that,  coming  out  of  the  school- 
house  after  the  meeting,  I  saw  him  standing  on  the  steps 
alone.  I  knew  that  an  escort  from  among  the  Wallen- 
camp  youths  was  close  behind  me.  I  hastened  to  put 
my  hand  on  Luther's  arm. 

" Will  you  walk  home  with  me?"  I  said,  looking  up 
in  his  face  and  smiling.  I  knew  that  the  face  lifted  to 
his  then  was  a  beautiful  one,  that  the  hand  resting  on 
his  arm  was  small  and  daintily  gloved,  unlike  the  bare 
coarse  hands  of  the  Wallencampers.  I  knew  that  my 
dress  had  an  air  and  a  grace  also  foreign  to  Wallencamp, 
that  a  delicate  perfume  went  up  from  my  garments,  that 
my  voice  was  more  than  usually  winning.  I  experienced 
a  dangerous  sense  of  satisfaction  in  the  conquest  of  this 
unsophisticated  youth  —  a  conquest  not  wholly  without 
its  retributive  pain  and  intoxication. 

I  felt  the  Cradlebow's  arm  tremble  as  we  walked  up 
the  lane. 

"  1  have  a  little  private  lecture  to  give  you,  Luther," 
I  said.  "  Of  course  you  have  been  very  much  absorbed 
in  your  own  affairs  lately,  but  is  that  an  excuse  for  for- 
saking your  old  friends  entirely  ?  Especially  if  you  are 
going  away.  Are  you  going  away  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Luther. 

"When?"  Tasked. 

"  In  April,"  he  answered  briefly. 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  159 

"  And  weren't  you  ever  coming  to  see  me,  again  ?  "  I 
murmured  with  designing  soft  reproach. 

"  I  was  coming  up  by  and  by,  to  say  good-bye,"  said 
Luther,  brokenly. 

"  Only  for  that  ?  "  I  questioned,  and  sighed  with  a 
perfect  abandonment  of  rectitude  and  good  faith  to  the 
selfish  gratification  of  that  moment. 

"  What  else  should  I  come  up  for  ? "  he  exclaimed, 
breaking  out  into  sudden  passion.  "  Except  to  tell  you 
what  you  don't  want  to  hear  ;  that  I  love  you,  teacher, 
I  love  you." 

"  Oh,  hush  !  "  I  cried  with  a  little  accent  of  unaffected 
pain.  "  It  isn't  right  for  me  to  let  you  talk  to  me  in 
that  way,  Luther.  Oh,  don't  you  see?  you're  nothing 
but  a  boy  to  me  !  " 

"  That's  a  lie !  "  the  boy  replied,  with  face  and  eyes 
aflame.  "  And  because  I  am  poor,  and  because  I  am 
more  ignorant  than  you,  you  make  it  an  excuse  to  trifle 
with  me  —  and  you  look  only  to  the  outside,  but  you 
know  I  have  lived  as  long  as  you  —  a  boy's  head,  you 
mean,"  he  went  on  with  choking,  fiery  bitterness.  "  And 
it  may  be,  and  you  are  very  kind,  God  knows  !  But  I 
can  tell  you  one  thing,  teacher,  it  isn't  a  boy's  heart  for 
you  to  put  your  foot  on  !  " 

It  was  not  a  boy's  strength  in  the  quivering  frame 
and  tense,  drawn  muscles.  In  his  rare  passions  I  ad- 
mired Lute  Cradlebow. 

The  greater  meekness  and  patience  which  always 
followed,  I  attributed  to  a  lack  of  perseverance  or  a  too 
easy  abandonment  of  purpose. 

"  I  hope  you  will  be  very  happy  all  your  life  through, 


l6o  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

teacher ; "  he  said,  as  we  stood  at  the  door  of  the  Ark ; 
and  he  spoke  very  gently,  and  as  though  he  was  going 
away  then  forever.  Madeline  had  the  key;  she  and 
her  companions  had  lingered  at  the  school-house,  as 
usual,  after  the  meeting.  I  murmured  something  about 
being  very  happy  to  have  such  a  kind,  true  friend ;  that 
I  should  probably  leave  Wallencamp  before  he  went  to 
sea,  but  I  hoped  he  would  write  me  about  his  wander- 
ings over  the  world,  and  I  should  always  be  happy  to 
answer  and  give  him  my  sisterly  advice. 

Luther  continued,  thoughtfully,  almost  smiling :  — 

"  You  remember  that  night,  teacher,  ever  so  long  ago 
it  seems,  before  I  knew  you,  when  the  boys  dragged  me 
into  the  Ark  and  I  kissed  you  ?  I've  always  kissed  the 
girls  when  they  come  home  from  anywhere,  and  I  never 
thought,  you  know.  I  didn't  mean  anything  by  it." 

"  Yes,"  I  said.  I  think  I  must  have  looked  amused. 
Luther  answered  the  laugh  in  my  eyes  with  quiet  appre- 
ciation. 

"  Well,  teacher,"  he  said  ;  "  I  should  like  to  kiss  you 
just  once  to-night,  and  mean  it." 

"  That's  a  remarkable  request,"  I  said  ;  "  to  come  from 
my  oldest  pupil ;  but  it  is  my  privilege  to  bestow,  just 
once.  If  you  will  bend  down  from  your  commanding 
height,  and  put  yourself  in  an  humble  and  submissive 
attitude  before  me." 

The  Cradlebow  knelt  on  the  doorstep.  I  would  have 
stooped  to  his  forehead,  but  he  put  up  his  arm  with  an 
extremely  boyish,  inoffensive  gesture,  almost  with  a  sob, 
I  thought,  to  draw  me  closer. 

I  would  have  had  that  kiss  as  passionless  as  though 


CAPE  COD   FOLKS.  l6l 

it  had  been  given  to  a  child.  The  Cradlebow's  breath 
was  pure  upon  my  cheek  —  but  I  was  compelled  to  feel 
the  answering  flame  creep  slowly  in  my  own  blood. 

"  Never  ask  me  to  do  that  again  ! "  I   exclaimed,  in 
righteous  exculpation  of  the  act.     "  Never ! ' 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


CHAPTER     VIII. 

FESTIVITIES   AT   THE   ARK. 

P  from  the  beach,  lightly  tripping,  capacious 
reticule  in  hand,  came  Mrs.  Barlow  to  spend 
the  day  at  the  Ark,  unexpectedly !  The  in- 
spired and  felicitous  customs  of  the  Wallencampers 
admitted  of  no  rude  surprises ;  rational  joy,  alone,  per- 
vaded the  Ark  at  this  matutinal  advent. 

Mrs.  Barlow,  Lovell's  mother,  presented  a  charmingly 
antique  appearance — antique  not  in  the  sense  of  ad- 
vanced years,  but  the  young  antique  —  the  gay,  the 
lively,  the  never-fading  antique.  She  had  even  a  girlish 
way  of  simpering  and  uttering  absurdly  rapturous  ex- 
clamations. Her  face  might  have  struck  one  at  first  as 
being  of  a  strangely  elongated  cast,  but  for  its  extreme 
prettiness  and  simplicity  of  expression.  Her  nose  was 
marked  by  a  becoming  scallop  or  two.  Her  eyes  were 
of  the  ocean  blue.  Her  dark  hair  was  arranged,  be- 
hind, in  the  simplest  and  most  compact  manner  possible 
but,  in  front,  art  held  delightful  play.  There,  it  was 
parted,  slightly  to  the  left,  over  a  broad,  high  forehead, 
and  disposed  in  braids  of  eight  strands  each,  gracefully 
and  lovingly  looped  over  Mrs.  Barlow's  ears. 

The  tide  of  cheerful  converse  was  at  its  full  when  I 
came  from  school  to  lunch.     Amid  this  preponderance 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  ^3 

of  female  society,  my  friend,  Grandpa,  shone  with  an 
ardent  though  faintly  tolerated  light,  giving  to  the 
lively  flow  of  the  discourse,  an  occasional  salty  and  com- 
prehensive flavor,  which  dear  Grandma  Keeler  held  her- 
self ever  in  calm  and  religious  readiness  to  restrain. 

I  listened,  intensely  interested,  to  the  conversation, 
quite  content,  for  my  own  part,  to  keep  silence ;  but  I 
caught  Mrs.  Barlow's  eye  fixed  on  me  as  if  in  abstracted, 
beatific  thought.  Soon  was  made  known  the  result  of 
her  meditation.  She  had  concluded  that  I  was  incapable 
of  descending  to  subjects  of  an  ordinary  nature.  Lean- 
ing far  forward  on  the  table,  with  a  smile  more  ecstatic 
than  any  that  had  gone  before,  she  directed  these  words 
at  me  in  a  clear,  swift-flowing  treble  :  — 

"  Oh,  ain't  it  dreadful  about  them  poor  delewded 
Mormons  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  "  I  exclaimed,  involuntarily,  blinded  by  the 
absolute  unexpectedness  of  the  question,  and  not  know- 
ing, in  a  dearth  of  daily  papers,  but  that  the  infatuated 
people  alluded  to  had  been  swallowed  up  of  an  earth- 
quake, or  fallen  in  a  body  into  the  Great  Salt  Lake. 

"  Oh,  nothing !  "  said  Mrs.  Barlow  ;  "  only  I  think  it's 
dreadful,  don't  yew,  settin'  such  an  example  to  Christian 
nations?  " 

"  Dreadful !  certainly  !  "  I  murmured,  with  intense 
relief,  and  allowed  my  glasses  to  drop  into  my  lap 
again. 

Thus  the  conversation  turned  to  subjects  of  a  religious 
nature. 

"  Oh,  I  think  it's  so  nice  to  have  direct  dealin's  with 
the  Almighty  ;  don't  yew  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Barlow.  "  Oh,  I 
think  it  is !  Brother  Mark  Barlow  says  he  can  hear  the 


164 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


Lord  speakin'  to  him  jest  as  plain  as  they  could  in  Old 
Testament  times  ;  oh,  yes,  jest  as  plain  exactly ;  Abra 
ham  and  all  them,  yew  know  !  And  Brother  Mark  Bar 
low  generally  means  to  go  to  Sunday  school.  He  says 
he  thinks  it's  so  interestin' ;  but  it's  sich  an  awful  ways. 
Don't  yew  think  it  is  ?  Oh,  yes,  it's  a  dreadful  ways  !  He 
don't  always.  But  yew  remember  that  Saturday  we  had 
sich  a  dreadful  storm  ?  oh,  wasn't  it  dreadful !  Oh,  yes  ! 
Well,  the  next  day,  that  was  Sunday,  Brother  Mark  Bar- 
low said  he  heard  the  Lord  sayin'  to  him,  jest  as  plain 
as  day  ;  '  Mark  Barlow,  don't  you  go  to  Sunday  school 
to-day  !  You  stay  home  and  pick  up  laths  ! '  and  he  did, 
and  oh,  he  got  a  dreadful  pile  !  most  ten  dollars  worth  ; 
but  I  think  it's  so  nice,  don't  yew,  to  have  direct  dealin's 
with  the  Almighty  !  " 

The  Barlows,  by  the  way,  were  regarded  with  a  sort  of 
contemptuous  toleration  by  the  Wallencampers  in  gene- 
ral, on  account  of  their  thrift  and  penuriousness,  the 
branded  qualities  of  sordid  and  unpoetic  natures. 

I  was  sorry  when  the  brief  hour  of  the  noon  inter 
mission  was  over,  and  I  had  to  go  back  to  school. 

But  at  night  the  Ark  became  alive.  Soon  after  supper, 
Mr.  Barlow  arrived  and  "  Brother  Mark  Barlow  "  and 
Lovell.  Then  the  little  room  began  to  fill  rapidly.  We 
adjourned  to  the  "  parlor  "  and  the  melodeon. 

"Oh,  I  do  think  them  plaster  Paris  picters  are  so 
beautiful,  don't  yew  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Barlow,  enraptured 
over  a  statuette  or  two  of  that  truly  vague  description, 
which  adorned  the  mantelpiece.  But  she  became  per- 
fectly lost  in  delight  when  Lovell  began  to  sing. 

Lovell's  was  the  one  execrable  voice  among  the  Wal- 
lencampers—  if  anything  so  weak  could  be  designated 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  ^5 

by  so  strong  a  term  —  and  his  manner  of  keeping  time 
with  his  head  was  clock-like  in  its  regularity  and  painfully 
arduous  ;  yet,  out  of  that  pristine  naughtiness  which  found 
a  hiding-place  in  the  hearts  of  the  Wallencamp  youth, 
Lovell  was  frequently  encouraged  to  come  to  the  front 
during  their  musicals,  and  if  not  actually  beguiled  into 
executing  a  solo,  was  generously  applauded  in  the  per- 
formance of  minor  parts.  There  was  comfort,  however, 
in  the  reflection  that  if  Lovell  had  indeed  possessed 
the  tuneful  gift  of  a  Heaven-elected  artist,  he  could  not 
have  been  so  supremely  confident  of  the  merit  of  his  own 
performances,  nor  could  his  mother  have  been  more 
delighted  at  their  brilliancy.  She  sat  with  hands  clasped 
in  her  lap  and  gazed  at  her  manly  offspring. 

"  Oh,  I  do  think  it's  so  beautiful  ! "  she  murmured 
occasionally  to  me,  aside.  "  Oh,  yes,  ain't  it  beauti- 
ful ? " 

Once,  she  remarked  in  greater  confidence  ;  "  Oh,  he's 
dreadful  wild  ! " 

"  Lovell  ?  "  I  inquired,  with  impulsive  incredulity. 

"  Oh,  dreadful !  "  she  continued.  "  I  don't  know  what 
he'd  ben  if  we  hadn't  always  restrained  him.  But 
somehow,  I  think  there's  something  dreadful  bewitchin5 
about  such  folks.  Don't  yew  ?  " 

"  Very,"  I  answered  with  vague,  though  ardent  sym- 
pathy. 

"  Oh,  dreadful  !  "  she  responded. 

Meanwhile  the  perspiration  stood  out  on  Lovell's  grave 
countenance,  and  his  head,  like  a  laborious  sledge-ham- 
mer, was  swaying  mechanically  backward  and  forward. 

"  Sing  bass,  now,  Lovell,"  said  Mrs.  Barlow ;  and  the 
expression  of  awed  delight  and  expectancy  on  her  face, 


r66  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

as  she  uttered  these  words,  was  a  rebuke  to  all  cynics 
and  unbelievers  of  any  sort  whatever. 

"  Yes'm,  so  I  will,  certainly,"  said  Lovell ;  "  so  I  will, 
and  if  I  hadn't  got  such  a  cold,  I'd  come  down  heavy 
on  it  too." 

"  What  do  you  think  ? "  Mrs.  Barlow  went  on  in  the 
same  confidential  aside  to  me  ;  "  he's  took  it  into  his 
head  that  he  wants  to  get  married !  Oh,  yes,  he  has 
really !  and  I  think  it's  a  wonder  he  never  got  set  on  it 
before.  But  he  never  has  so  but  what  we  could  restrain 
him.  But  William  and  I,  we're  beginning  to  think  he 
might  as  well  if  he  wants  to.  Oh,  yes,  I  think  it  will 
be  so  nice.  Don't  yew  ?  I  think  it  will  be  just  splendid  ! 
And  I  tell  William,  Lovell's  wife  shan't  do  nothing  but 
set  in  the  parlor  and  fold  her  hands,  if  she  don't  want  to ; 
and  she  shall  have  a  music,  and  everything.  When  we 
built  our  new  house,  you  know  we  used  to  live  in  that 
little  house  that  Brother  Mark  Barlow  lives  in  now,  oh, 
yes,  and  I  think  it's  so  nice  to  have  a  new  house,  don't 
yew  ?  I  had  'em  make  the  window  seats  low  on  purpose, 
so  that  Lovell's  children  could  sit  on  them  !  Oh,  I 
think  it  will  be  so  pleasant,  don't  yew  ?  " 

Mrs.  Barlow  turned  her  enraptured  gaze  on  me. 

"  Lovell's  wife,"  I  hastened  to  reply,  toying  with  my 
glasses  ;  "whoever  she  maybe,  is  certainly  to  be  envied 
—  and  Lovell's  children,  too  "  —  I  added,  induced  by 
that  transcendently  beaming  smile  ;  "  who  will  have  such 
a  broad  window  seat  to  sit  on." 

Never  an  evening  began  in  heartier  fashion  at  the 
Ark. 

George  Olver,  standing  next  to  Rebecca,  rolled  out  a 
grand  and  powerful  bass. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  167 

Lars  Thorjon,  the  Norwegian,  maintained  a  smiling 
silence,  except  when  he  was  giving  utterance  m  song  to 
his  inspiring  tenor. 

Madeline  played  the  "music." 

I  saw  her  wince  sometimes,  when  the  fine  though  un- 
tutored voices  around  her  took  on  a  too  wild  and 
exuberant  strain.  The  little  woman's  own  voice  was 
exceedingly  gentle  and  refined  ;  more  than  that,  it  had 
a  passionately  sweet,  sad  tone,  a  rare  pathos.  I  used  to 
wonder  what  there  was  in  Madeline's  heart  —  what 
there  had  been  in  her  life  —  to  make  her  sing  so.  Then 
I  remembered  how  easy  it  was  for  her  to  get  out  of 
temper,  and  how  often  she  slapped  the  children,  and 
I  concluded  that  it  was  only  a  voice  after  all,  and 
not  necessarily  indicative  of  any  inward  sentiment  or 
emotion. 

And  the  mischievous  Harvey  Dole  —  could  it  be  the 
same  youth  who  stood  there  now  with  tearful  eyes, 
chanting  his  longings  to  be  pure  and  sanctified  and 
heavenly.  This  merry  youth  had  a  predilection  for 
those  religious  songs  which  contained  the  deepest  and 
saddest  sentiment. 

"  Now,  what's  the  matter  with  you,  Harvey  ?"  said 
Emily  Gaskell,  who  had  but  just  dropped  in.  "You 
know  you'll  go  along  hum  to-night  stunin'  my  cats! 
You  know  what  a  precious  nice  time  you're  calculatin' 
to  have,  about  two  months  from  now,  up  in  my  trees 
stealin'  my  peaches,  you  young  devil.  'Wash  you  from 
your  sins  ! '  Humph  !  Yes,  you  need  it  bad  enough, 
Lord  knows !  A  good  poundin',  and  boilin',  and 
sudzin',  you  need  —  and  a  good  soakin'  in  the  bluein1 
water  over  night,  too." 


1 68  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

Emily's  eyes  sparkled  with  keen  though  good-natured 
satire.  There  was  a  flood  of  crimson  color  in  her 
cheeks,  not  entirely  the  effect  of  her  brisk  walk  in  the 
open  air.  She  had  a  spasm  of  coughing,  which  she 
endured  as  though  such  discomforts  had  become  quite 
a  matter  of  course,  merely  remarking  when  she  had 
recovered  herself  sufficiently  to  speak  :  — 

"  Thar',  that'll  last  me  for  one  spell,  I  guess." 

"  Won't  you  set,  Emily  ?  "  said  Grandma, 

"  No,"  said  Emily.  "  I  can't.  I  jest  come  up  to  tell 
my  man,  there,  to  go  home  !  Levi  is  over  from  West 
Wallen,  and  wants  to  .see  him.  Lord,  I  didn't  know 
you'd  got  a  party,  Miss  Keeler  !  "  she  continued,  glanc- 
ing with  an  irresistibly  comical  expression  about  the 
room. 

"Oh,  no!  we  ain't  got  no  party,"  said  Grandma 
Keeler,  pleasantly.  "  They  jest  happened  to  drop  in 
along." 

"  Wall  now,  I  should  think  there'd  ben  a  shower  and 
rained  'em  all  down  at  once :"  again  surveying  the 
occupants  of  the  room  with  a  comprehensively  critical 
air  that  was  hardly  flattering. 

"  I  don't  see  what  on  'arth !  "  she  went  on.  "  Half 
the  time  you  might  ransack  Wallencamp  from  top  to 
bottom,  and  you'd  find  everybody  a'most  somewhere, 
and  nobody  to  hum  !  It  ain't  much  like  the  cake  Silvy 
made  last  week  —  she's  crazier  than  ever  —  'Where's 
the  raisins,  Silvy  ? '  says  I  —  I  always  make  it  chock  full 
of  'em,  and  there  wasn't  one,  — '  Oh/  says  Silvy, 
'  I  mixed  'em  up  so  thorough  you  can't  a  hardly  find 
'em.'  '  I  guess  that's  jest  about  the  way  the  Lord  put 
the  idees  into  your  head,  Silvy,'  says  I.  '  Bless  the 


CAPE   COD  FOLK'S.  169 

Lord ! '  says  that  poor  fool,  as  slow  and  solemn  as  a 
minister." 

"We've  been  a  singin',"  interposed  Grandma  Keeler 
in  a  voice  that  contrasted  with  Emily's,  like  the  flow  of 
a  great  calm  river  with  the  impatient  fall  of  a  cataract. 
"It  seems  a'  most  as  though  I'd  been  in  Heaven. 
They  was  jest  a  singin'  — '  The  Light  of  the  World  is 
Jesus.'  I  shall  never  forgit,  when  I  was  down  to  camp- 
meetin'  to  Marthy's  Vin'yard  a  good  while  ago  —  there 
was  a  little  blind  boy  stood  up  on  a  bench  and  sung  it 
all  alone ;  and  it  made  me  cry  to  see  him  standin'  there 
with  his  poor  little  white  face,  and  eyes  that  couldn't 
see  a'  one  of  all  the  faces  lookin'  up  to  him,  a  singin' 
that  out  as  bold  and  free,  and  he  did  pronounce  the 
words  so  beautiful  so  as  everybody  could  hear  —  I  can 
hear  him  a  singin'  of  it  out,  now  — '  The  Light  of  the 
World  is  Jesus.'  And  I  suppose  we  git  to  thinkin'  that 
the  light's  in  our  eyes,  maybe,  or  the  light's  in  the 
sun,  or  the  light's  in  the  lamp,  maybe.  But  you  might 
put  out  my  eyes,"  —  said  Grandma  Keeler,  closing 
her  eyes  as  she  spoke,  and  looking  very  peaceful  and 
happy  —  "and  you  might  put  out  the  sun,  and  you 
might  put  out  the  lamp,  and  say  — 'Thar',  Almiry's 
all  in  the  dark  room,  she  can't  see  nothin'  now'  — 
but  the  Light  of  the  World  'ud  be  thar  jest  the  same, 
you  couldn't  put  out  the  light  — 'The  Light  of  the 
World  is  Jesus.'  " 

"Oh,  I  didn't  know  ye  was  havin' a  meetin',"  said 
Emily  Gaskell,  mockingly. 

"No  more  we  ain't,  Emily,"  said  Grandma  Keeler. 
"We  was  jest  cheerin'  ourselves  up  a  little,  singin' 
about  home.  Come  you,  now,  and  sing  with  us  "  : 


170  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

"  We're  goin'  home, 
No  more  to  roam." 

With  eyes  still  closed,  with  head  thrown  back,  and  a 
heavenly  serene  expression  on  her  face,  Grandma  began 
the  refrain,  while  Madeline  struck  the  chords  on  the 
melodeon,  and  the  singers  took  up  the  words  with  a 
hearty  cheer :  — 

'•  We're  goin'  home, 

No  more  to  roam, 
No  more  to  sin  and  sorrow; 

No  more  to  wear 

The  brow  of  care, 
We're  go'n'  home  to-morrow." 

Then  the  chorus,  "We're  going  home,"  joyfully  re- 
peated, died  away  at  last,  more  plaintively,  "We're 
going  home  to-morrow." 

"Wall,  I'm  goin'  home  to-night,"  said  Emily,  and,  as 
I  looked  up  at  her,  I  caught  the  same  mischievous 
gleam  in  her  unsoftened  eyes.  "  So  strike  up  something 
lively  now,  and  I'll  waltz  down  the  lane  to  it.  'Are 
your  windows  open  towards  Jerusalem  ?'  —  Lord,  can't 
you  think  o'  something  warmer  than  that  for  this 
weather  ? " 

But  the  singers  were  going  on  gloriously  : 

"  Are  your  windows  open  towards  Jerusalem? 

Though  as  captives  here  a  little  while  we  stay 
For  the  coming  of  the  King  in  His  glory, 
Are  you  watching,  day  by  day  ? " 

Emily  tightened  the  shawl  around  her  neck  with  a 
quick  motion.  In  going  out,  she  took  an  indirect  course 
through  the  room,  purposely  to  pass  by  where  I  was 
sitting. 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  171 

"  Are  your  windows  open  towards  Jerusalem  ? "  said 
she,  stooping  and  whispering  in  my  ear :  "  Dave 
Rollin's  out  there  hangin'  onto  the  fence  one  side  the 
bushes,  and  Lute  Cradlebow  the  other,  and  they  don't 
see  each  other  no  more  than  two  bats." 

"  Are  your  windows  open  towards  Jerusalem  "  was  a 
favorite  with  the  Wallencampers.  On  this  occasion 
they  repeated  it  several  times.  Captain  Sartell  and 
Bachelor  Lot,  who  had  been  engaging  in  a  game  of 
checkers  in  the  little  kitchen,  left  the  board  as  the  well- 
loved  strains  greeted  their  ears,  and  came  in  to  join  the 
group. 

Grandpa  had  been  consigned  to  the  kitchen  stove, 
with  a  corn-popper.  I  do  not  think  that  he  regretted 
being  removed,  somewhat,  from  the  more  inspiring 
scenes  which  animated  the  Ark.  I  was  amused  to 
follow,  with  my  ear,  the  old  gentleman's  progress  in  the 
successive  stages  of  his  corn-shelling  and  corn-popping 
operations  with  certain  contingent  misfortunes,  as  when 
he  went  into  the  pantry  to  look  for  a  pan,  and  brought 
down  a  large  quantity  of  tin-ware  clanging  about  his 
ears,  and  rolling  in  all  directions  over  the  floor,  while  I 
immediately  inferred  from  the  tones  of  his  voice  that  he 
was  enjoying  a  little  unembarrassed  colloquy  with  the 
powers  of  darkness.  Once,  in  his  shuffling  peregri- 
nations, he  tipped  over  the  little  bench  which  sustained 
the  water-pail.  A  deep  sigh  of  horror  and  despair 
escaped  his  lips,  and  was  followed  by  a  "  What  the 
Devil !  "  borne  in  upon  the  song-laden  air  with  unmis- 
takable force  and  distinctness. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  ma,"  said  Madeline,  looking  up 
sharply  ;  "  what  can  pa  be  a'  doin'  ?  " 


172  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

"  Oh,"  calmly  said  Grandma  Keeler,  "  I  guess  he's 
only  settlin'  down." 

And  with  Grandma,  indeed,  the  turmoils  of  this  sub- 
lunary sphere  implied  only  a  vast  ultimate  settling 
down. 

But  if  such  deep  rest  came  to  Grandpa,  it  was  only  as 
a  dream  from  which  he  was  soon  to  be  rudely  awakened. 

The  sound  of  his  footsteps  had  ceased.  I  knew  that 
he  was  seated  in  his  chair  by  the  fire,  and  I  heard  the 
long-handled  popper  shaken  back  and  forth  upon  the 
stove,  at  first  as  if  moved  by  the  power  of  a  steadfast 
purpose.  But  the  sound  grew  fainter,  the  motions  less 
regular.  They  were  several  times  desperately  renewed, 
and  then  ceased  altogether,  so  quickly  had  Grandpa 
soared '  beyond  the  low  vicissitudes  of  a  corn-popping 
world.  Soon  a  burning  smell  arose.  Then  the  door 
of  the  kitchen  opened.  Grandpa  was  startled.  I  knew 
the  catastrophe.  The  corn-popper  with  its  contents  had 
been  precipitated  to  the  floor.  Then  I  heard  a 
courteous  male  voice,  with  just  a  touch  of  suppressed 
merriment  in  it :  — 

"  Never  mind,  Captain  !  small  business  for  you,  steer- 
ing such  a  slim  craft  as  that,  eh  ?  On  a  red-hot  stove, 
too !  " 

"  Humph !  Topmast,  heavier  than  the  hull,"  replied 
Grandpa,  accepting  with  gratitude,  in  this  extremity,  the 
sympathy  of  the  new-comer. 

The  other  gave  a  low  laugh. 

"  Never  mind,  Captain  !  he  repeated,  "  we'll  have  it 
slick  here  in  a  minute.  Let  me  take  the  broom.  You've 
got  it  wrong  side  up.  By  Harry,  we've  got  the  deluge 
inside  the  Ark  this  time,  Captain  ! " 


'THE  CORN-POPPER   WITH   ITS  CONTENTS  WAS   PRECIPITATED 
TO  THE   FLOOR  "     Page    172 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


173 


"Tarnal  water-pail  slipped  moorin's,"  confessed 
Grandpa. 

Then  followed  a  vigorous  sound  of  corn  rattling,  and 
water  swashing  against  the  sides  of  the  room,  and  I 
knew  that  Mr.  Rollin,  the  elegant,  was  sweeping  out 
the  kitchen  of  the  Ark. 

"  I  guess  they's  somebody  else  come,"  exclaimed 
Grandma,  with  hospitable  glee.  "  Wall,  I  declare  for't. 
I  guess  I'll  go  out  into  my  kitchen  and  git  that  little 
no-back  cheer.  Seems  to  me  as  though  we'd  got  all  the 
rest  on  'em  in  use,  pretty  much." 

"I'll  go,  ma,"  said  Madeline.  "Teacher'll  be 
wanted  to  play  now,  and  may  be  she  will,  though  she 
can't  be  got  to  do  it  for  common  folks." 

I  did  not  enjoy  playing  on  Madeline's  melodeon. 
Any  performances  of  that  kind  which  I  had  undertaken 
had  been  confined  exclusively  to  an  audience  of  the 
Wallencampers.  I  had  certainly  never  made  an  ex- 
ception for  the  amusement  of  the  fisherman.  But 
I  flattered  myself  that  there  was  no  trace  of  resentment 
in  my  tone  when  I  said,  "  Sit  still,  Madeline,  please,  I 
know  where  the  chair  is.  Don't  I,  Grandma  ?  "  and 
was  groping  my  way  out  through  the  green  curtained 
"  keepin' "  rooms,  towards  Grandma's  culinary  apart- 
ment, thankful  for  a  momentary  escape  from  the  heated 
atmosphere  of  the  "  parlor,"  when  I  heard  just  behind 
me  a  voice  of  the  most  exquisite  smoothness  :  — 

"  Miss  Hungerford,  allow  me." 

"  Mr.  Rollin  !  "  I  exclaimed,  with  an  overwhelming 
sense  of  the  ludicrousness  of  the  situation  :  "  How  dared 
you  come  through  the  room  where  they  were  all  sitting 
and  follow  me  out  here !  Did  Grandma  tell  you  that 


174  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

I  had  gone  after  a  little  no-back  chair  for  you  to  sit 
on?" 

"  She  did,"  replied  Mr.  Rollin,  with  impressive 
gravity :  "  and  I  took  it  as  most  divinely  kind  of  you, 
too ;  though,  if  I  might  be  allowed  any  choice  in  the 
matter,  I  think  I  should  be  likely  to  assume  a  much 
more  graceful  and  more  easeful  and  natural  position  in 
a  chair  constructed  after  the  ordinary  pattern,  Miss 
Hungerford,  especially  as  after  my  exertions  in  the 
kitchen  I  feel  the  need  of  entire  repose." 

"  But  this  is  the  only  one  left,"  I  answered,  with  sup- 
pressed laughter.  "  Do  you  think  you  can  find  it,  Mr. 
Rollin  ? " 

"  If  you  should  leave  me  now,"  replied  the  fisherman ; 
"  I  should  have  positively  no  idea  whither  to  direct  my 
steps." 

"  Then  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  get  it  for  you,"  I 
said. 

"  But  I  could  not  think,"  he  continued,  "of  allowing 
you  to  pursue  your  way  through  this  utter  darkness  to 
the  extreme  rear  of  the  Ark  alone.  I  beg  you  to  show 
me  the  way." 

I  was  not  disposed  to  commit  so  gross  an  impropriety 
as  to  linger  with  Mr.  Rollin  in  "  Grandma's  kitchen," 
which  we  had  reached,  and  through  whose  broad, 
uncurtained  windows  the  moonlight  was  pouring  in 
with  a  clear,  fantastic  radiance. 

"  Isn't  this  glorious  !  "  exclaimed  the  fisherman,  in  a 
tone  nearly  as  rapturous  as  Mrs.  Barlow's  own.  "  Oh, 
you  don't  think  of  going  back  now,  Miss  Hungerford  ! 
After  I've  mopped  the  kitchen  floor,  and  braved  all 
Wallencamp  in  its  lair,  and  groped  my  way  out  through 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS,  175 

those  infernally  black  rooms,  for  the  chance  of  having  a 
few  quiet  words  with  you." 

Mr.  Rollin's  eyes  were  not  snaky,  nor  his  manner 
suggestive  of  dark  duplicity;  yet  I  always  felt  a  certain 
unaccountable  discomfort  while  in  his  presence,  as 
though  there  was  need  of  keeping  my  own  conscience 
particularly  on  the  alert. 

I  knew  that  the  group  in  the  parlor  would  be  counting 
the  moments  of  our  absence. 

"  How  can  you  ask  me  —  "I  began,  in  a  tone  of 
cheerful  remonstrance,  at  the  same  time  readjusting  my 
glasses  to  glance  about  for  the  little  "  no-back  "  chair  — 
"  How  can  you  ask  me  to  stay  out  here  talking  with 
you,  when  you  know " 

"  Oh,  I  know,"  Mr.  Rollin  interrupted  quickly.  "  I 
know  how  very  thoughtful  and  considerate  you  are  for 
those  people,  Miss  Hungerford.  I  know  what  lofty 
ideas  you  have  just  now  of  consecrating  yourself  to 
the  work  of  refining  and  elevating  the  Wallencampers. 
I  know  how  coolly  you  can  fix  your  eyes  on  a  certain 
goal,  and  stumble  indiscriminately  over  everything  that 
comes  in  your  way.  I  know  what  a  deucedly  superior 
state  of  mind  you've  gotten  into.  I  know  too  about 
Miss  B's  school,  and  Miss  L's  school,  and  the  Seminary 
at  Mount  Blank,  and  the  winters  in  New  York." 

There  was  triumph  at  last,  in  Mr.  Rollin's  tone. 

"  You  have  taken  pains  to  collect  a  great  deal  of 
information  about  me  ; "  I  replied,  virtuously  conclud- 
ing that  I  should  disappoint  the  fisherman  more  by  not 
appearing  vexed. 

"  Is  it  strange  ? "  he  continued  earnestly,  with  an 
unconscious  parody  on  his  usually  suave  and  insinuat- 


176  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

ing  manner.  "You  will  allow,  Miss  Hungerford,  that 
you  might  strike  one,  at  first,  as  not  being  exactly  in 
the  ordinary  line  of  home  missionaries,  that  is,  as  not 
having  been  trained  for  the  work,  exactly ;  a  sort  of 
novitiate,  I  mean — confound  it !  You  will  allow  that 
you  might  strike  one  at  first,  as  being  deucedly  new  ir» 
that  rdle" 

After  this,  I  smiled  with  a  faintly  malicious  sense  of 
satisfaction  at  Mr.  Rollin's  confusion,  though  I  felt  that 
I  had  been  cut  to  the  heart. 

"  And  when  I  spoke  about  having  found  out  about 
your  past  life,"  he  went  on,  struggling  desperately  with 
his  lost  cause  ;  "  I  did  not  mean  that  there  was  anything 
bad,  you  know ;  only  that  you  sought  pleasant  diver- 
sions in  common  with  the  rest  of  humanity,  and  enjoyed 
the  Heaven-born  instinct  of  knowing  how  to  have  a 
good  time,  and  weren't  always  the  ambitious  recluse 
and  religious  devotee  that  you  choose  to  be  just  at 
present ;  though  I've  sometimes  wished  that  I  could 
turn  saint  so  all  of-  a  sudden,  but  I  couldn't,"  added 
the  fisherman,  despondently ;  "  if  I  should  go  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth  in  that  capacity,  nobody' d  take  any 
stock  in  me,  whatever ;  and,  after  all,  what  does  it 
amount  to  ? 

"  This  isn't  what  I  meant  to  say,  any  of  it ; "  he 
sighed  angrily.  "  It's  just  what  I  meant  not  to  say — 
confound  it !  You've  done  gloriously  :  you've  played 
the  thing  through  to  perfection ;  you've  made  an  inimi- 
table success  of  it ;  but  Wallencamp  doesn't  offer 
scope  wide  enough  for  your  powers.  I  offer  you  a 
field  hitherto  untilled,  left  to  the  wandering  winds  and 
the  birds  of  the  air,  extensive  enough  in  its  forlorn 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


177 


iniquity,  I  assure  you,  to  engage  your  patient  and  con- 
tinued efforts.  It  may  prove  productive  of  good  results 
yet,  who  knows  ?  Is  it  my  fault  that  I  didn't  know  you 
sooner  ?  " 

I  did  not  mistake  the  change  in  Mr.  Rollin's  tone, 
nor  the  meaning  in  his  eyes,  but  as  we  stood  there  by 
the  window,  in  the  full  moonlight,  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  another  face  outside,  vanishing  up  the  lane  —  almost 
like  a  ghostly  apparition  it  seemed  to  me  —  the  hand- 
some pale  young  face.  I  guessed  instinctively  whose 
it  was,  and  suffered  a  pang  of  sharp,  unconfessed  pain, 
while  the  fisherman  was  murmuring  in  my  ear. 

"  Don't  speak  to  me  again  of  missions  ! "  I  cried 
with  the  strong  and  tragic  air  of  consciously  blighted 
aspirations.  "  I  shall  go  on  no  more  missions,  great 
or  small.  It  is  very  true  what  you  have  tried  so  deli- 
cately to  intimate.  I  was  not  fit  for  the  work  I  under- 
took to  do.  I  have  only  made  mistakes  all  the  way 
along.  Possibly  I  have  been  only  'playing  a  part.' 
What  does  it  amount  to,  indeed  !  What  does  it  amount 
to!" 

"  Heavens  !  "  said  Mr.  Rollin  ;  "  play  a  part,  by  all 
means ;  never  be  sincere  in  anything  you  do.  I  never 
tried  it  but  once,  and  I've  made  a  desperate  mess  of  it. 
Can't  you  understand  that  what  I  said  was  only  in  the 
purest  sort  of  self-defence  ?  You  weigh  my  words  so 
nicely.  Well,  you  are  considerate  enough,  God  knows, 
of  those  dirty  brats  and  ignorant  louts  —  coddling  that 
girl,  Rebecca,  who  is  a  good-hearted  creature  enough, 
but  not  fit  for  respctable  people  to  touch  their  hands 
to ;  and  associating  with  such  conceited  boors  as  that 
George  Olver,  and  that  grinning  clown,  Harvey,  and 


178 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


that  poor  fool,  Lovell  Barlow,  and  that  what-d'ye-call- 
him  —  that  fiddling  young  devil  with  the  bird-like 
name " 

Mr.  Rollin  stopped  suddenly. 

"You  might  make  allowances  for  a  man  in  a  pas- 
sion," he  said ;  "  instead  of  dissecting  his  words  in 
that  cold-blooded  way." 

"  I  had  no  notion  of  dissecting  your  words,"  I  said, 
provoked  into  a  desperate  honesty  ;  "  I  believe  them,  as 
a  whole,  to  be  utterly  false." 

"  From  the  very  beginning,"  said  Mr.  Rollin  ;  "  thank 
you  ;  so  I  can  begin  all  over  again  ;  meanwhile,  —  you 
will  forgive  me  ?  Imagine  that  I'm  one  of  those  dirty 
little  beggars  that  go  to  school  to  you.  If  one  of  them 
should  come  to  you  and  say  that  he  was  sorry  ?  —  " 

"  I  should  only  be  intensely  surprised,"  I  said ;  "  they 
never  do  such  things." 

"  Then  I  have  a  superior  claim  on  your  clemency," 
said  the  fisherman  ;  "  for  I  am  sorry  and  humiliate  my 
soul  to  the  lowest  depths  of  the  confessional." 

It  was  the  voice  of  the  plausible,  easy-going  fisher- 
man again. 

My  hand  was  on  the  latch.  "  I  am  not  angry ;  I 
would  rather  be  friends,"  I  said  with  averted  face,  as 
we  were  returning  through  the  dark  "  keepin'-rooms." 

"  When  you  get  out  of  this  realm  of  myths  and  mis- 
sions, and  general  dread  and  discomfort,"  said  Mr. 
Rollin,  "  on  to  comprehensible  soil  again,  where  ordi- 
nary sinners  are  sure  of  some  sort  of  a  footing,  —  and 
bad  as  a  fellow  is  he  knows  there  are  plenty  more  like 
him,  —  then  I  shan't  appear  to  you  in  such  a  deucedly 
poor  light  as  I  do  now,  a  doubtful  sort  of  pearl  in  a 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


179 


setting  of  isolated  cedars,  with  my  beauty  and  my 
genius  and  my  heavenly  aspirations  all  unappreciated, 
or  made  to  descend  as  a  greater  measure  of  condem- 
nation on  my  devoted  auburn  head.  Truly,  I  believe 
that  an  evil  star  attends  my  course  in  Wallencamp. 
My  own  ideas  seem  strange  to  me.  I  cannot  grasp 
them.  My  language  is  wild  and  disconnected,  I  fancy, 
like  that  of  the  early  Norse  poets.  When  I  meet  you 
in  the  world,  I  shall  hope  to  recover  some  of  the  old- 
time  coherence  and  felicity  of  speech  which  I  remem- 
ber to  have  heard  practised  among  the  world's  people ; 
and  it  isn't  long  now,  thank  Heaven,  before  you'll  leave 
Wallencamp  behind  you.  When  you  go  home " 

When  I  should  go  home,  indeed  !  I  had  hardly  dared 
to  cherish  the  thought.  I  stifled  the  rising  flood  of  ex- 
ultation in  my  breast  —  but  how  pale  and  interesting  I 
should  look  !  And,  then,  I  would  describe  Wallencamp 
to  my  own  loving  friends  as  it  really  was,  and  what  a 
lion  they  would  make  of  me  !  Had  they  not  always 
lionized  my  virtuous  efforts  to  the  fullest  extent ! 

My  face  must  have  been  very  happy  in  the  dark.  I 
felt  even  almost  kindly  towards  Mr.  Rollin.  We  were 
at  the  last  door.  As  we  entered  the  lighted  room, 
Grandma's  broad  face  began  to  beam  with  slow  sur- 
prise. "Why,"  said  she;  "where's  the  little  no-back 
cheer?" 

Mr.  Rollin's  resources  in  such  extremities  usually 
bespoke  a  lifetime  of  patient  and  adroit  application, 
but  now  he  hesitated.  The  accumulated  glory  of  years 
seemed  likely  to  be  wrecked  on  the  phantom  of  a  little 
no-back  chair. 

"  Moonstruck  ?  Eh,  Mr.  Rollin  ?  "  inquired  Harvey 
Dole. 


l8o  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

The  fisherman  regarded  Harvey  with  a  smile  of  quiel 
and  amused  sufferance. 

"  Ah  !  Mrs.  Keeler,"  said  he,  with  a  graceful  bow  in 
Grandma's  direction;  "  Mrs.  Philander  did  me  the 
honor  when  I  came  in,  to  ask  me  to  stand  up  with  the 
singers  at  the  melodeon ;  a  position  which  I  shall  be 
most  happy  to  take,  although  I  fear  that  my  vocal  pow- 
ers are  of  an  exceptionally  poor  order." 

The  fisherman  turned  over  the  leaves  of  the  despised 
Moody  and  Sankey  hymnal  for  Madeline,  was  pro- 
foundly attentive  while  the  singing  was  going  on,  and 
made  suave  and  affable  remarks  here  and  there  during 
the  intervals  ;  then  glanced  at  his  watch  with  an  ex- 
pression of  highly-affected  concern,  bade  an  elaborate 
adieu  to  the  company,  and  retired  from  the  scene. 

"Oh,  I  think  that  Mr.  Rollin  is  so  elegant,  don't 
yew  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Barlow.  "  Oh,  yes  ;  I  think  he's  so 
genteel !  " 

"  /  don't  think  so  at  all,"  said  Lovell.  "  /  don't, 
certainly,  /don't  think  so." 

"  He  ain't  got  much  voice  ;  "  said  Mrs.  Barlow,  clasp- 
ing her  hands  in  raptured  appreciation  of  her  match- 
less Lovell. 

Finally,  Grandpa,  with  a  haggard  smile  on  his  fea- 
tures, stumbled  across  the  little  landing  of  the  stairway, 
between  the  parlor  and  the  kitchen,  bearing  with  him  a 
pan  of  much  scorched  and  battered  pop-corn.  , 

"  Oh,  ain't  them  beautiful  !  "  arose  Mrs.  Barlow's  re- 
assuring cry. 

Grandma  had  already  set  an  example  to  her  guests 
by  making  a  convenient  receptacle  of  her  capacious 
lap,  and  pouring  some  of  the  corn  into  it,  an  example 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  181 

which  the  fortunate  scions  of  the  skirted  tribe,  now  ar- 
ranged in  rows  on  one  side  of  the  room,  followed,  each 
in  turn.  Of  the  male  species  on  the  other  side  of  the 
room,  Lovell  happened  to  be  first  in  line.  As  the  corn 
came  nearer  and  nearer  to  him,  he  began  to  look  about 
wildly,  and  to  cough.  His  legs  trembled  violently  with 
the  effort  he  was  making  to  keep  them  close  together. 
He  accepted  the  pan  of  pop-corn  with  a  gesture  of 
feverish  haste,  and  proceeded  to  pour  the  contents  into 
his  lap,  but,  as  he  poured  they  disappeared,  and  the 
faster  he  poured  the  faster  they  disappeared,  and  the 
more  strenuous  exertions  he  made  to  keep  his  legs  close 
together,  the  wider  seemed  to  grow  the  chasm  through 
which  the  corn  went  rattling  down  on  to  the  floor,  until 
Lovell's  eyes  began  to  whirl  in  their  orbits  and  drops  of 
sweat  stood  out  upon  his  forehead. 

Harvey,  who  appreciated  the  situation  and  was  burst- 
ing with  a  desire  to  roar  out  his  mirthful  emotions, 
showed  a  kind  heart  above  all,  and  turned  the  tables 
nicely  in  poor  Lovell's  behalf. 

"  Look  here,  Lovell !  "  he  cried  ;  "  that's  a  pretty  trick 
to  play  on  us  fellows,  you  rascal !  you'd  better  let  up  on 
that,  now !  " 

Lovell  grasped  at  the  idea  as  a  drowning  man  might 
grasp  at  a  good  substantial  raft  that  should  come  float- 
ing down  his  way. 

"  T-that's  so,"  he  stammered.  "  It  is  too  bad,  Har- 
vey. It-t-t  is,  certainly,  but  anything  for  a  j-joke,  you 
know.  Here,  take  it  yourself,  Harvey,  t-take  it ;  take 
it,  quick !  " 

And  Lovell  got  down  on  his  knees  as  though  he 
would  have  rendered  dumb  thanks  to  Heaven  for  his 


lS2  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

unexpected  deliverance,  and  proceeded  to  gather  up  the 
corn  with  glad  alacrity. 

After  this,  the  water  was  passed,  and,  at  such  times, 
it  was  always  comforting  to  consider  how  bountiful 
nature  had  been  in  this  respect  to  Wallencamp,  and 
that  the  demand  could  never  be  quite  equal  to  the 
supply. 

Then  the  company  began  to  disperse  with  many 
hand-shakings  and  "  Why  don't  ye  all  drop  into  my 
house  ?  "  etc.,  etc, 

Lovell  Barlow  came  back  twice  to  shake  hands  with 
me ;  and  returning  the  third  time,  got  lost,  somehow, 
in  the  general  confusion,  and  shook  hands  very  fervently 
with  his  mother,  who  was  standing  in  the  door. 

I  heard  one  of  the  departing  visitors  exclaim  :  "  Why, 
where's  Lute  ?  I  should  a  thought  he'd  a  dropped  in, 
sure !  " 

And  another  answered  :  "  Oh,  he's  got  some  new 
notion  into  his  head,  I  reckon !  goin'  on  a  cruise, 
may  be  ! '; 

Rebecca  was  going  out  with  a  girl  companion,  talking 
rather  loudly.  I  was  moved  to  take  her  hand  a  moment, 
gently  detaining  her.  She  looked  exceedingly  bright 
and  pretty.  Her  physical  beauty  was  perfect,  yet  I 
believed  that  the  soul  was  only  half  awakened  in  the 
girl. 

So  as  I  held  her  hand  a  moment,  with  the  others 
taking  noisy  leave  about  us,  I  looked  into  her  face  with 
what  she  might  have  read  as  :  "  Weren't  you  laughing 
rather  loudly,  my  dear  ?  I  can  see  now  that  you  are 
not  so  happy  as  you  would  have  people  believe.  Why 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


183 


not  confide  in  me,  and  let  me  straighten  your  difficulty 
out  for  you  ?  " 

But  Rebecca's  eyes  were  downcast,  and  her  cheeks 
crimson.  She  let  her  hand  slip  passively  out  of  mine, 
and  passed  on,  without  a  word. 


1 84  CAPE  COD   FOLKS. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

LOVELL    "  POPS    THE    QUESTION." 

NE  morning,  ere  we  had  breakfasted  at  the  Ark, 
Lovell  Barlow,  like  some  new-fangled  orb  of 
day,  was  seen  to  surmount  the  ruddy  verge  of 
the  horizon.  He  bore  a  gun  upon  his  shoulders,  and 
advanced  with  a  singularly  martial  and  self-confident 
tread.  As  he  entered  the  Ark,  he  placed  the  gun  against 
the  wall,  and  sat  down  and  folded  his  arms,  and  looked 
as  though  he  could  be  brave  without  it. 

"Well,  Madeline,"  said  he,  with  a  determined  gaze 
fixed  straight  before  him  on  vacuity,  and  with  a  desperate 
affectation  of  spontaneity  in  his  tone  —  "  Well,  Madeline, 
mother  and  father  have  gone  to  Aunt  Marcia's,  /suppose 
to  spend  a  week,  /  suppose  —  ahem  !  —  ahem  !  —  /  sup« 
pose  so." 

"  You  don't  say  so,  Lovell  !  "  exclaimed  Madeline. 
"  And  what'll  poor  Robin  do  how,  Lovell  ?  Oh,  what'll 
poor  Robin  do  now  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  he  gravely;  "that's  what  //forethought, 
ahem  !  They  thought  they  should  stay  a  week,  they 
thought  so,  certainly." 

"Wall,  I  declar'  for't,  Lovell,"  said  Grandma; 
"  now's  the  time  you'd  ought  to  have  a  wife.  Jest  to 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  185 

think  how  comf'table  'twould  be  fu  ye,  now,  instead  of 
stayin'  there  all  alone,  if  ye  only  had  a  nice  little  wife  to 
home,  to  cook  for  ye,  and  watch  for  ye,  and  keep  ye 
company,  and " 

"  /  think  so,"  exclaimed  Lovell,  giving  a  quick  glance 
backward  in  the  direction  of  his  gun.  "  Certainly,  ahem  ! 
/think  so.  /do." 

"  Lookin'  for  game  ?  Eh,  Lovell  ?  "  inquired  Grand- 
pa. 

"  Pa,"  said  Grandma,  solemnly :  "  I  wish  you'd  put 
another  stick  of  wood  in  the  stove." 

Grandpa  was  awake  now,  and  a  youthful  and  Satanic 
gleam  shone  from  under  his  shaggy  eyebrows  ;  he  glanced 
at  me,  too,  as  was  his  habit  on  such  occasions,  as  though 
I  had  a  sort  of  sympathy  for  and  fellowship  with  him  in 
his  bold  iniquities  of  speech. 

But  the  guileless  Lovell  interpreted  not  the  deeper 
meaning  of  Grandpa's  words. 

"  I  think  some  of  it,  Cap'n,"  he  answered  unsmilingly, 
and  then  continued  :  "  It's  been  —  ahem  !  —  it's  been  a 
very  mild  winter  on  the  —  ahem  !  —  I  should  say  on  the 
Cape.  It's  been  a  very  mild  winter  on  the  Cape,  Miss 
Hungerford." 

Lovell's  nervous  glance  falling  again  on  his  gun,  took 
me  in  wildly  on  the  way. 

I  had  been  directing  some  letters  that  I  expected  to 
have  an  opportunity  to  send  that  morning. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  I  said,  looking  up.  "  Yes,  you 
don't  often  have  such  mild  winters  on  the  Cape,  Mr. 
Barlow ! " 

"No'm,  we  don't,"  said  Lovell,  "not  very  often, 
ahem ! "  He  moved  his  chair  a  peg  nearer  the  gun. 


!86  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

"Quite  a — ahem  !  —  quite  a  little  fall  of  snow  we  had 
last  night,  Miss  Hungerford." 

"  Any  deer  tracks  ?     Eh,  Lovell  ?  "  inquired  Grandpa. 

"  Pa,"  said  Grandma  ;  "  I  wish  you'd  fill  Abigail  — 
seems  to  me  she  smells  sorter  dry." 

"  She  ain't,  for  sartin',  ma,"  replied  Grandpa,  giving 
the  tea-kettle  a  shake  to  verify  his  assertions  ;  "  and 
Rachel's  chock  full !  " 

Grandma  then  gave  Grandpa  a  meaning  look,  and  put 
her  fingers  on  her  lips. 

"  Well,  Cap'n,  I  saw  more  rabbit  tracks,"  replied 
Lovell,  innocently  amused  at  the  ludicrousness  of  the 
old  Captain's  speech.  "  I  did,  rather  —  ahem  !  —  yes, 
I  saw  more  rabbit  tracks  —  ahem  !  —  ahem  !  "  He  gave 
his  chair  a  desperate  hitch  gunward.  '  I  don't  suppose 
they  ever  do  such  a  thing,  where  you  live,  Miss  Hunger- 
ford,  as  to  go  —  ahem  !  —  to  go  sleigh-riding,  now,  do 
they,  Miss  Hungerford  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  I  said  ;  "  they  always  do  in  the  winter. 
I  haven't  been  home  through  the  winter  for  a  year  or 
two  past,  but  I  remember  what  splendid  times  we  used 
to  have." 

I  was  thinking  particularly  of  a  certain  snow-fall,  that 
came  when  I  was  seventeen  years  old,  and  John  Cable 
had  just  returned  from  College,  with  a  moustache  and 
patriarchal  airs. 

Some  grinning  recollections  of  the  past  were  also 
floating  through  Grandpa's  mind.  The  look  of  repre- 
hensible mirth  was  still  in  his  eyes,  and  he  showed  his 
teeth,  which  gleamed  oddly  white  and  strong  in  contrast 
with  his  grizzled  countenance. 

"  I  remember  "  —  he  began. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  187 

"  Pa,"  said  Grandma,  with  an  expressive  wink  of  one 
eye,  and  only  part  of  her  face  visible  around  the  corner 
of  the  doorway,  through  which  Madeline  had  already 
disappeared ;  "pa  —  I  wish  you'd  come  out  here  a 
minute,  now  —  I  want  to  see  ye." 

"  Wall,  wall,  can't  ye  see  me  here,  ma  ?  What  makes 
ye  so  dreadful  anxious  to  see  me  all  of  a  sudden  ? " 
inquired  Grandpa.  But  his  face  did  not  lose  its  thought- 
ful illumination.  "  Wall,  as  I  was  a  tellin'ye,  teacher," 
he  went  on  ;  "I  was  only  a  little  shaver  then  —  a  little 
shaver  —  and  my  father  had  one  of  those  'ere  pungs,  as 
we  used  to  call  'em,  that  he  used  to  ride  around  in  — 
and  he  was  a  dreadful  man  to  swear,  my  father  was, 
teacher — Lordy,  how  he  would  swear  ! " 

"  Pa  !  "  said  the  great  calm  voice  at  the  door;  "  I'm  a 
waitin'  for  you  to  come  out,  so't  I  can  shet  the  door." 

"  Wall,  wall,  ma,  shet  the  door  if  ye  want  to,  I've  no 
objections  to  havin'  the  door  shet  —  —  and  we  had  an 
old  hoss,  teacher.  Lordy,  how  lean  he  was,  lean  as  a 
skate,  and 

"  Bijonah  Keeler  !  " 

"  Yis,  yis,  I'm  a  comin',  ma,  I'm  a  comin'."  And 
wonderful  indeed,  I  thought  must  have  been  the  tale, 
which,  even  under  these  exasperating  circumstances, 
kept  Grandpa's  face  a-grin  as  he  ran  and  shuffled 
towards  the  door. 

The  door  was  quickly  closed  behind  him  by  other 
hands  than  his  own,  and  then  I  observed  that  LovelPs 
chair  had  been  drawn  into  frightfully  close  proximity  to 
his  gun. 

"I  —  I  think  it's  pleasanter,  that  is  —  I  —  I  some- 
times think  it's  warmer  for  t-t-two  in  a  sleigh,  than 


1 88  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

' — a  —  'tis — for  one,  don't  you,  Miss  Hungerford  ? '' 
said  Lovell,  and  gasped  for  breath  and  continued-, 
"  Now,  I  think  of  it,  you  — you  wouldn't  think  of  such  a 
thing  as  going  to  ride  with  me  to-night,  would  you,  Miss 
Hungerford  ?  You  —  you  wouldn't  think  of  such  a 
thing,  would  you  now  ?  " 

"  Why  —  if  you  are  kind  enough  to  invite  me  to  go 
sleigh-riding  with  you,  Mr.  Barlow  ?  " 

"  /  think  so ; "  said  Lovell,  grasping  his  gun,  and 
becoming  immediately  pale,  though  composed.  "  Yes'm, 
/think  so,  certainly,  /do." 

"  Thank  you,  I  will  go  with  pleasure,"  I  said. 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Hungerford,"  said  Lovell,  rising 
hurriedly.  "I  wish  you  a  pleasant  day  —  /do,  with 
pleasure,  and  I  hope  that  nothing  will  happen  to 
prevent ! " 

And  Lovell  marched  back  across  the  fields  as  val- 
iantly as  a  man  may,  who,  on  occasions  of  doubt  and 
peril,  takes  the  precaution  to  go  suitably  armed. 

During  the  day  the  Wallencampers  indulged  in  a 
mode  of  recreation,  suggestive  of  that  unique  sort  of 
inspiration  to  which  they  not  unfrequently  fell  vic- 
tims. 

They  attached  a  horse  to  a  boat,  a  demoralized  old 
boat,  which  had  hitherto  occupied  a  modest  place  amid 
the  dkbris  surrounding  the  Ark,  and  thus  equipped,  they 
rode  or  sailed  up  and  down  the  lane.  It  proved  a 
stormy  sea,  and  often,  as  the  boat  capsized,  the  air  was 
rent  with  screams  of  mock  terror  and  yells  of  unaffected" 
delight. 

Thus  the  youth  of  Wallencamp,  yes,  and  those  who 
heeded  not  the  swift  decline  of  years,  by  reason  of  the 


'GRANDMA   KEELER  SWAYING   WILDLY   IN  THE   STERN  "       Page   183 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


189 


immortal  freshness  of  their  spirits,  disported  themselves. 
And  I  was  not  amazed,  catching  a  glimpse  through  the 
school-house  windows  of  this  joyous  boat  on  one  of  her 
return  voyages  up  the  lane,  to  see  Grandma  Keeler 
swaying  wildly  in  the  stern. 

Meanwhile,  I  managed  to  keep  my  flock  indoors.  But 
when,  at  four  o'clock,  I  took  my  ruler  in  hand  to  give 
the  usual  signal  of  dismissal,  the  Phenomenon's  heels 
had  already  vanished  through  the  window,  and  the 
repressed  animal  spirits  of  a  whole  barbaric  epoch 
sounded  in  the  whoop  with  which  the  Modoc  shot 
through  the  door. 

Finally,  I,  myself,  rode  up  the  lane  in  the  boat.  The 
path  was  well  worn  by  this  time,  and  there  was  no  dan- 
ger of  a  catastrophe.  It  seemed  to  me  a  novel  perform- 
ance enough,  but  I  had  not  yet  been  to  ride  in  Lovell's 
sleigh. 

Lovell  came  very  early,  and  preferred  to  wait  outside 
until  I  had  finished  eating  my  supper.  Then,  with  that 
deep  self-satisfaction  which  predominated  in  my  soul, 
even  over  its  appreciation  of  the  novel  and  amusing,  I 
donned  my  seal-brown  cloak,  and  stepping  out  of  the 
door,  gathered  up  my  skirts,  and  smiled  at  Mr.  Lovell 
with  a  pair  of  seal-brown  eyes,  and  was  not  surprised  to 
hear  him  ejaculate,  coughing  slightly;  "Ahem!  /think 
so,  certainly,  yes'm,  /think  so  ;  /do." 

Lovell's  was  the  only  sleigh  in  Wallencamp,  and,  as 
he  informed  me,  it  was  one  that  he  had  himself  con- 
structed. It  had,  indeed,  already  suggested  to  my  mind 
the  workings  of  no  ordinary  intellect.  Perhaps  its  most 
impressive  features  were  its  lowness  and  its  height  —  the 
general  lowness  and  length  of  its  body,  into  which  one 


190 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


could  step  easily,  the  floor  being  covered  with  a  carpet  of 
straw,  suggesting  field-mice  ;  and  the  unusual  height  to 
which  it  rose  in  the  back,  being  surmounted  by  two  glitter- 
ing knobs,  like  those  on  the  head-board  of  an  old-fash- 
ioned bedstead.  Half-way  down  the  back  of  this  impos- 
ing structure  the  arms  or  wings  sprouted  out,  giving  to  the 
whole  the  appearance  of  an  immense  Pterodactyl,  or  some 
other  fossil  bird  of  fabulous  proportions,  and  effectually 
shutting  in  the  occupants  of  the  sleigh  from  any  contem- 
plation of  the  possible  charms  of  the  scenery.  The  seat 
was  made  very  low,  and  it  was,  perhaps,  on  this  account 
that  the  horse  seemed  so  abnormally  high.  It  was  a  white 
horse,  and  from  our  lowly  position,  there  seemed  to  be 
something  awful  and  shadowy  in  the  motions  of  its  legs. 
The  red  of  sunset  had  not  gone  out  of  the  sky  when  we 
started,  and  a  pale  young  moon  was  already  getting  up 
in  the  heavens,  but  we  could  see  neither  fading  sky  nor 
rising  moon,  nor  rock,  nor  tree,  nor  snowy  expanse, 
naught  but  the  gigantic  hoof-falls  of  our  phantom 
steed. 

Being  thus  hopelessly  debarred  from  any  communica- 
tion with  external  nature,  and  fearing  to  give  myself  up 
to  my  own  thoughts,  which  were  of  a  somewhat  danger- 
ous character,  I  endeavored  to  engage  my  companion 
in  lively  and  cheerful  converse  by  the  way ;  but  he  was 
in  a  position  of  actual  physical  suffering,  for  the  reins 
were  short  —  too  short,  that  is,  to  form  a  happy  connect- 
ing link  between  him  and  the  horse,  and  poor  Lovell  was 
obliged  to  lean  forward  at  an  acute  angle  in  order  to 
grasp  them  at  all.  Whenever  the  ghostly  quadruped 
made  a  plunge  forward,  as  he  not  unfrequently  did, 
Lovell  was  thrust  violently  down  into  the  straw,  and 


WHY   DOES  A   HEN   GO  AROUND  THE   ROAD?"      Page    191 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


191 


throughout  all  this  he  comported  himself  with  such  firm 
and  hopeless  dignity  that,  with  the  respect  due  to  suffer- 
ing, I  was  moved  to  witness  the  struggle,  at  length,  with 
silent  commiseration.  Once,  having  kept  his  seat  for  a 
longer  time  than  usual,  Lovell  said :  — 

"  I'll  give  you  a  riddle,  Miss  Hungerford,  /  will. 
Ahem !  '  Why  —  why  does  a  hen  go  around  the  road,' 
Miss  Hungerford  ? " 

I  posed  my  head  in  an  attitude  of  deep  thought. 

"  Because,"  Lovell  hastened  to  say ;  "  because  she 
can't  go  across  —  no,  that  wasn't  right  —  why  —  ahem  ! 
why  does  a  hen  go  across  the  road,  Miss  Hungerford  ? " 
and  the  next  instant  he  was  wallowing  in  the  straw  at 
my  feet. 

My  soul  was  filled  with  unutterable  compassion  for 
him. 

"  Because,"  I  ventured,  when  Lovell  reappeared  again, 
affecting  a  tone  of  lively  inspiration :  "  because  she 
can't  go  around  it  ?  " 

"  You  —  you've  heard  of  it  before  !  "  gravely  protested 
Lovell. 

"  I  confess,"  said  I,  "  that  I  have.  It  used  to  be  my 
favorite  riddle." 

"  It  —  it  used  to  be  mine,  too,"  said  Lovell.  "  It  used 
to  be,  Miss  Hungerford  —  ahem  !  It  used  to  be  —  You 
—  you  couldn't  tell  what  I  was  thinking  of  when  I  — 
ahem  —  when  I  started  from  home  to-night,  now,  could 
you,  Miss  Hungerford  ?  "  said  Lovell,  at  length. 

"  I'm  sure  I  couldn't,  Mr.  Barlow,"  said  I  :  "  but  1 
hope  it  was  something  very  agreeable." 

"  But  it  wasn't,"  said  Lovell ;  "  that  is,  not  very,  Miss 
Hungerford ;  ahem !  not  very.  I  was  —  I  was  —  ahem  ! 


192  CAPE    COD    FOLKS. 

I  was  thinking  of  it,  you  know,  of —  of  such  a  thing  as 
getting  married,  you  know." 

"  1  hope,"  said  I,  cheerfully,  after  a  pause  ;  "  that  as 
you  consider  the  subject  longer,  it  will  be  a  less  painful 
one  to  you." 

"I  hope  so,  Miss  Hungerford,"  said  Lovell.  "Ahem  ! 
I  hope  so,  certainly ;"  but  there  was  little  of  that  san- 
guine quality  expressed  in  his  tones. 

The  great  white  horse  made  another  plunge  forward, 
and  Lovell  recovered  himself  with  a  desperate  effort. 

"  What  should  you  think  now,  Miss  Hungerford,"  he 
continued,  moistening  his  parched  lips;  "if  I  should  do 
such  a  thing  as  to  —  ahem  ! — as  to  speak  of  such  a 
thing  as  —  ahem! — as  something  of  that  sort  to  you, 
now,  Miss  Hungerford?  Now,  what  should  you  think 
of  such  a  thing?  now,  really?" 

"  I  should  think  you  were  very  inconsiderate,"  I  said, 
"  and  would  probably  regret  your  rashness  afterwards." 

"  /  think  so,"  said  Lovell ;  "  ahem  !  /  think  so,  Miss 
Hungerford;  /do,  certainly." 

After  this  it  seemed  as  though  a  weight  had  been 
lifted  from  Lovell's  mind.  He  kept  his  seat  better. 
His  was  not  a  buoyant  spirit,  but  there  was,  on  this 
occasion,  an  air  of  repressed  cheerfulness  about  him 
such  as  I  had  never  before  seen  him  exhibit.  I  tried  to 
think  that  it  was  a  joyous  mental  rebound  from  the  con- 
templation of  those  dark  riddles  which  trouble  human- 
ity, "Why  does  the  hen  go  across  the  road,"  etc. 

After  a  brief  pause,  Lovell  said  ;  "You  —  you  wouldn't 
mind  if  I  should  sing  a  little  now,  now  would  you, 
Miss  Hungerford?" 

I  assured  him  that  I  should  be  very  glad  to  have  him 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


193 


do  so,  and  he  sang,  I  remember,  all  the  rest  of  the  way 
home.  At  the  gate,  I  thanked  him  for  the  ride  and  its 
cheerful  vocal  accompaniment,  and  Lovell  said ;  "  Do 
you  like  to  hear  me  sing,  now?  Do  you  —  do  you, 
really,  now,  Miss  Hungerford  ?  "  and  turned  away  with 
a  smile  on  his  face  to  seek  his  home  by  the  sea. 

But  Lovell  was  not  long  lonely,  for,  in  less  than  a 
week,  his  father  and  mother  returned  from  their  visit 
at  Aunt  Marcia's  and  brought  to  Lovell  a  wife. 

Mrs.  Barlow  herself  informed  me  that  "it  was  an 
awful  shock  to  him,  at  first,  oh,  dreadful  !  but  he'd 
made  up  his  mind  to  get  married,  and  he'd  never  a' 
done  it  in  the  world,  if  we  hadn't  took  it  into  our  own 
hands.  She  was  a  good  girl,  and  we  knew  it,  and  Lov- 
ell wasn't  no  more  fit  to  pick  out  a  wife,  anyway,  than  a 
chicken,  not  a  bit  more  fit  than  a  chicken  ! " 

This  girl  lived  in  the  same  town  with  Aunt  Marcia, 
and  was  confidently  recommended  by  her  to  Lovell's 
parents  as  one  who  would  be  likely  to  make  him  a  wise 
and  suitable  helpmeet,  and  was,  indeed,  an  uncommonly 
fair  and  wholesome  looking  individual.  She  had  a 
mind,  too,  whose  clear,  practical  common  sense  had 
never  been  obscured  by  the  idle  theories  of  romance. 
She  was  pure  and  hearty  and  substantial.  She  was 
neither  diffident,  nor  slow  of  speech,  nor  vacillating. 
She  came,  at  the  invitation  of  Lovell's  parents,  to  marry 
Lovell,  and  if  he  had  refused,  she  would  have  boxed 
his  ears  as  a  wholesome  means  of  correction,  and  mar- 
ried him  on  the  spot. 

So  Lovell's  destined  wife  was  brought  home  to  him 
in  the  morning,  and  in  the  afternoon  of  that  same  day 
the  connubial  knot  was  tied. 


194 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


Half  an  hour  after  the  arrival  of  the  bride,  it  was 
known  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  Wallen- 
camp,  to  every  one,  I  believe,  save  Lovell  himself,  who 
was  gathering  driftwood  a  mile  or  two  down  the  beach, 
that  Lovell  was  going  to  be  married  ! 

At  three  o'clock  P.  M.,  Brother  Mark  Barlow  was 
despatched  to  West  Wallen  for  a  minister. 

Small  scouts  had  been  sent  out  to  watch,  where  the 
road  from  the  beach  winds  into  the  main  road,  and 
when  word  was  brought  back  that  "  Mark  had  gone  by," 
the  Wallencampers  proceeded  to  make  all  due  prepara- 
tions ;  and  soon  might  have  been  seen  winding  in  a 
body  towards  the  scene  of  interest. 

The  small  paraphernalia  of  invitations  and  wedding 
cards  were  unknown  in  Wallencamp.  The  Wallen- 
campers would  have  considered  that  there  was  little 
virtue  in  a  ceremony  of  any  sort,  performed  without  the 
sanction  and  approval  of  their  united  presence. 

In  regard  to  the  particular  nature  of  this  entertain- 
ment, there  was  some  snickering  in  the  corners  of  the 
room,  but  the  general  aspect  was  funereal. 

The  season  during  which,  with  Lovell  at  one  end  of 
the  room,  and  the  bride  at  the  other,  we  sat  waiting  the 
arrival  of  the  minister,  was  as  solemn  as  anything  I 
had  ever  known. 

I  made  a  congratulatory  remark,  in  a  low  tone,  to 
Mrs.  Barlow,  who  sat  at  my  side  with  her  hands  clasped, 
gazing  first  at  Lovell  and  then  at  the  bride  ;  but  I  was 
forced  to  experience  the  uncomfortable  sensation  of  one 
who  has  inadvertently  spoken  out  loud  in  meeting.  No 
one  said  anything. 

The  helpless  snicker  which  started  occasionally  from 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  195 

Harvey  Dole's  corner,  and  was  echoed  faintly  from 
other  quarters  of  the  room,  only  heightened,  by  contrast, 
the  effect  of  the  succeeding  gloom. 

The  bride  was  perfectly  composed,  with  a  high,  nat- 
ural color  in  her  cheeks,  and  an  air  of  being  duly 
impressed  with  the  importance  of  the  occasion. 

She  had  assumed  a  large  white  bonnet,  though  I  do 
not  think  that  she  and  Lovell  took  so  much  as  a  stroll 
to  the  beach  after  the  ceremony  —  and  her  plump  and 
shapely  hands  were  encased  in  a  pair  of  green  kid 
gloves.  She  gazed  thoughtfully,  at  each  occupant  of 
the  room  in  turn,  not  omitting  Lovell,  who  never  once 
stirred  or  lifted  his  eyes. 

Mr.  William  Barlow  was  silently  passing  the  water, 
when  Brother  Mark  arrived  with  the  minister. 

That  grave  dignitary  advanced  with  measured  tread 
to  a  small  stand,  draped  with  a  long  white  sheet,  that 
had  been  prepared  for  him  in  the  centre  of  the  room. 

He  took  off  his  gloves,  and  folded  them ;  he  took  off 
his  overcoat,  and  laid  it  on  the  back  of  a  chair  ;  and  if 
he  had  then  reached  down  into  his  pockets  and  taken 
out  a  rope,  and  proceeded  to  adjust  a  hanging-noose,  his 
audience  could  not  have  shown  a  more  ghastly  and 
breathless  interest  in  his  performance. 

''•  Will  the  parties  "  —  his  sonorous  voice  resounded 
through  the  awful  stillness  — "  Will  the  parties  — 
about  —  to  be  joined  —  in  holy  wedlock  —  now  —  come 
forward  ? " 

As  Lovell  then  arose  and  walked,  with  an  automatic 
hitch  in  his  legs,  across  the  room  to  his  bride,  there  was 
about  him  all  the  stiffness  and  pallor  of  the  grave  with- 
out its  smile  of  peace. 


196  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

"  Lovell  and  Nancy  "  —  arose  the  deep  intonation  — 
"  will  you  — now  —  join  hands  ? " 

It  was  a  warm  strong  hand  in  the  green  kid  glove, 
Its  grasp  might  have  sent  a  thrill  of  life  through  Lov- 
ell's  rigid  frame,  for  when  the  minister  inquired  : 

"And  do  you,  Lovell,  take  this  woman  ?  "  etc.,  etc. 

Lovell  bent  his  body,  moved  his  lips,  and  replied  in  a 
strange,  far-away  tone,  "  Yes'm,  /  think  so.  /  do,  cer- 
tainly." 

But  when  the  question  was  put  to  the  bride,  she, 
Nancy,  promised  to  take  Lovell  to  be  her  wedded  hus- 
band, to  love  and  cherish,  yes,  and  to  cleave  to,  with 
a  round,  full  "  I  do,"  that  left  no  possible  room  foi 
doubt  in  the  mind  of  any  one  present,  and  seemed 
to  send  back  the  flood  of  frozen  terror  to  Lovell's 
veins. 

Lovell  and  Nancy  were  pronounced  man  and  wife, 
and  Nancy  then  divested  herself  of  her  bonnet  and 
gloves,  and  joined  in  the  festivities  which  followed 
with  a  hearty  good-will,  that  proved  her  to  be  quite  at 
home  among  the  Wallencampers,  and  won  at  once  their 
affection  and  esteem.  The  manner,  particularly,  in 
which  she  carried  beans  from  her  plate  to  her  mouth, 
gracefully  balanced  on  the  extreme  verge  of  her  knife, 
as  an  adroit  and  finished  work  of  art,  provoked  the  won- 
der and  admiration  of  all  those  whose  beans  sometimes 
wandered  and  fell  off  by  the  way. 

And  all  the  while,  Mrs.  Barlow's  adjectives  flowed  in 
a  full  and  copious  stream. 

"  Oh,  Lovell  had  been  so  wild,"  she  said  to  me. 
"  Oh,  dreadful !  But  didn't  I  think  he  looked  like  a 
husband  now?  So  quick,  too  !  Oh,  yes,  wasn't  it  beau- 


'AND   DO  YOU,    LOVELL,  TAKE  THIS  WOMAN?'1      Page    196 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  197 

tiful !  Abbie  Ann  said  he  looked  as  though  he'd  been 
a  husband  fifteen  years  !  " 

After  the  ceremony,  Lovell  had  taken  his  pipe  and 
retired  a  little  from  the  active  scenes  which  were  being 
enacted  around  him. 

I  saw  him,  as  I  was  going  away,  standing  in  the  door 
and  looking  out  upon  the  bay.  I  held  out  my  hand  to 
him,  in  passing.  "  I  congratulate  you,  Mr.  Barlow,"  I 
said.  Lovell  put  his  hand  to  his  mouth  and  coughed 
slightly  several  times,  as  though  he  were  striving  to 
think  of  the  polite  thing  to  say.  Then  he  replied  :  "  I 
—  I  —  ahem  !  I  wish  you  the  same,  Miss  Hungerford, 
/do,  certainly." 

Lovell  was  not  so  pale  as  he  had  been,  but  looked 
very  serious  and  pensive  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  mys- 
terious depths  of  the  ocean.  Lovell  had  propounded 
riddles  to  me,  but  never  before  had  I  caught  such 
a  glimpse  of  the  deeply  philosophical  workings  of  his 
mind. 

"  When  you  come  to  think  of  it,  life  —  ahem  —  life  is 
very  uncertain,  Miss  Hungerford." 

I  replied  that  it  was  very  uncertain. 

"  And  short,  too,  when  you  come  to  think  of  it.  It's 
very  short,  too,  Miss  Hungerford." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  I  answered,  "  very." 

"  Ahem  !  It  was  —  it  was  dreadful  sudden,  some- 
how," said  Lovell. 

"  I  suppose  so,  Mr.  Barlow,"  I  replied  gravely ; 
"  great  and  unexpected  joys  are  sometimes  said  to  be 
as  benumbing  in  their  first  effects  as  griefs  coming  in 
the  same  way." 


198  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

"/think  so,"  said  Lovell.  "Ahem  !  /think  so,  Miss 
Hungerford,  /do,  certainly." 

Madeline  joined  me  at  the  door,  and  I  bade  Lovell 
good-night. 

We  clambered  down  the  cliffs,  walking  a  little  while 
along  on  the  beach  on  our  way  homeward. 

It  was  growing  dark,  and  the  voice  of  the  ocean  was 
infinitely  mournful  and  sublime.  No  wonder,  I  thought, 
that  life  had  seemed  very  short  and  uncertain  to  Lovell 
as  he  stood  in  the  door  listening  to  the  waves. 

What  a  little  thing  it  seemed  indeed,  comparatively  — 
this  life  with  its  fears  and  hopes,  its  poor  idle  jests  and 
fleeting  shows. 

"  And  there  shall  be  no  more  sea  "  —  but  this  poor 
human  soul  that  looks  out  so  blindly,  and  utters  itself 
so  feebly  through  the  senses,  shall  live  for  ever  and 
ever. 

"  Lovell's  folks  have  picked  out  a  good  wife  for  him, 
anyhow,"  said  Madeline,  briskly.  "  She's  got  a  sight 
more  sense  than  anybody  he'd  ever  a'  picked  out." 

I  crept  back  into  my  shell  again.  "  I  think  so,  cer- 
tainly, Madeline,"  said  I,  smiling  at  having  uncon- 
sciously repeated  Lovell's  favorite  phrase. 

"  She'll  make  Lovell  all  over,  and  get  some  new  ideas 
into  him,  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Madeline. 

And  though  I  did  not  stay  in  Wallencamp  long 
enough  to  witness  with  my  own  eyes  the  fulfilment  of 
this  prophecy,  I  know  that  it  was  abundantly  fulfilled  — 
that  Lovell  soon  recovered  from  the  shock  incident  to 
his  wedding  ;  that  under  the  influence  of  his  wholesome, 
active  wife,  and  with  the  weight  of  greater  responsibili- 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


199 


ties,  he  grew  more  manly  and  admirable  in  charac- 
ter, as  well  as  happier,  with  each  succeeding  year  ;  and 
that  Lo veil's  children  —  a  joyful  and  robust  group, 
adored  of  Mrs.  Barlow,  senior  —  play  on  the  "  broad 
window  seat "  that  looks  off  towards  the  sea. 


•3T-- 


200  CAPE  COD   FOLKS. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A   LETTER    FROM    THE    FISHERMAN. 

HE  fisherman  had  gone  back  to  Providence. 
Rebecca,  herself,  returning  from  the  Post  Of- 
fice at  West  Wallen,  brought  me  a  letter  distin- 
guished by  its  peculiar  dashing  chirography.  As  she 
handed  it  to  me,  the  girl,  whose  glance  had  been  down- 
cast of  late,  gave  me  a  clear,  straightforward,  unem- 
barrassed look. 

"  Do  you  like  him,  teacher  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Oh,  I  tolerate  him,  my  dear,"  I  answered.  "We're 
not  expected  to  entertain  a  particular  liking  or  dislike  for 
everybody  we  know.  There  are  a  great  many  people 
we  must  just  simply  tolerate." 

Rebecca's  eyes  fell  again.  "  He  won't  harm  you, 
teacher,  she  said  ;  "  for  you  was  used  to  folks.  Some- 
time you  might  remember  —  I  wasn't  used  to  folks." 

Occupied  with  my  own  thoughts,  I  passed  lightly  over 
the  girl's  slow,  trembling  speech.  She  turned  away, 
and  I  bent  to  the  complacent  perusal  of  my  letter.  In 
my  then  composed  and  exalted  frame  of  mind  its  con- 
tents were  not  calculated  to  create  in  me  either  great 
emotion  or  surprise.  And  not  because  the  mere  fact  of 
the  fisherman's  absence  had  suddenly  rendered  him 
more  desirable  in  my  eyes,  but  as  the  result  of  a  recent 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  2OI 

determination  on  my  part  to  take  an  utterly  worldly  and 
practical  view  of  life,  I  resolved  to  give  this  letter  the 
most  careful  and  serious  consideration. 

The  fisherman  was  of  good  family,  and  he  was  rich  ; 
these  statements,  artistically  interwoven  by  him  with  the 
lighter  fabric  of  his  letter,  were  confirmed  by  an  acquaint- 
ance of  mine  in  Providence,  of  whom,  in  writing,  I  had 
incidentally  inquired  concerning  the  gentleman. 

Respectability  and  wealth — items  not  supposed  to 
weigh  too  heavily  with  the  romantic  mind  of  youth  — 
but  I  believed  that  I  was  no  longer  either  young  or 
romantic.  Moreover,  I  was  slowly  realizing  the  fact  that 
school-teaching  in  Wallencamp  was  not  likely  to  furnish 
me  the  means  for  making  an  excessively  brilliant  per- 
sonal display,  nor  for  carrying  out  to  any  extent  my 
subordinate  plans  for  a  world-wide  philanthropy. 

"Perhaps,  after  all  then,"  I  argued;  "it  is  only  left 
for  me  to  give  up  my  ideas  about  being  unique  and  inde- 
pendent and  sublime,  '  take  up  with  a  good  offer,'  and 
step  resolutely,  without  any  sentimental  awe,  into  the 
great  orderly  ranks  of  the  married  sisterhood." 

My  life  had  been  but  a  varied  list  of  surprises  to  my 
family  and  acquaintances,  why  not  effect  the  crowning 
surprise  of  all,  by  doing  something  they  might  have 
expected  of  me  ? 

Well,  I  had  dreamed  of  higher  things  —  but  this  was 
a  strange,  restless,  disappointing  world.  If  one  saw  a 
plain  path  open  before  one's  feet,  one  might  as  well  walk 
quietly  along  that  way.  There  were  thorns  in  every  path, 
and  it  would  be  nice  to  be  rich,  very  rich. 

My  thoughts  wandered  through  a  wide  field  of  imagin- 
ary delight,  encountering  only  one  serious  obstacle  in  the 


202  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

way  of  their  elysium,  and  that  was  the  fisherman  himself, 
considered  as  a  life-long  escort  and  companion. 

In  my  youthful  dreams,  I  had  cherished,  to  be  sure,  a 
score  of  mild  Arthur  Greys  and  stern  Stephen  Mont- 
gomerys.  My  Arthurs  had  all  died  of  inherited  con- 
sumption. I  had  taken  leave  of  their  departing  spirits 
under  the  most  thrilling  circumstances,  having  frequently 
been  married  to  them  at  their  deathbeds,  and  had  lived 
but  to  plant  flowers  on  their  graves  and  wear  crape  for 
them  ever  afterwards ;  and  my  dark-browed  Stephen 
Montgomerys  had  all  gone  to  swell  the  avenging  tide  of 
righteous  war,  and  had  been  fatally  shot,  while  I 
remained  to  shed  tears  of  unavailing  grief  over  the  locks 
of  raven  hair  they  left  with  me  on  the  morning  of 
their  departure.  But  to  marry  a  real,  live,  omnipresent 
man  —  a  man,  with  red  hair,  sound  lungs,  and  no  wars 
to  go  to !  My  aspiring  soul  shrank  from  the  realistic 
vision. 

And  all  the  while  a  tenderer  vision  would  rise  before 
my  eyes,  clothed  with  its  pitiful  romance  —  the  Cradle- 
bow,  like  some  sadly  out-of-fashion  guest,  arising  unso- 
licited out  of  a  half-forgotten  dreamland,  passing  indeed 
both  the  ideal  strength  of  the  warlike  Stephen  and  the 
gentleness  of  the  saintly  Arthur,  but,  alas  !  so  crude,  so 
unworldly,  so  ridiculously  poor !  And  the  vision  extended 
and  then  narrowed  helplessly  to  a  home  in  one  of  the 
forlorn  houses  in  Wallencamp  by  the  sea,  with  its  dingy 
walls  and  bare  floors,  its  general  confusion  of  objects 
and  misery,  and  my  lord's  grand  eyes  obscured,  per- 
chance, behind  clouds  of  tobacco  smoke,  while  I  set  the 
scanty  table  and  fried  the  briny  herrings. 

With  a  shudder  for  romance,  I   returned  to  the  con- 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS,  203 

templation  of  wealth  and  respectability ;  and  took  up 
graciously,  once  more,  the  briefly  abandoned  idea  of 
duty. 

I  had  often  been  told  that  it  was  my  duty  to  accommo- 
date myself  to  other  people's  views.  Perhaps  I  should 
accomplish  my  designs  for  self-immolation,  and  thus,  in 
one  sense,  effect  my  highest  spiritual  good,  by  marrying 
the  fisherman  and  accommodating  myself  to  his  views  — 
ah !  but  how  could  that  be,  I  reflected,  unsmilingly,  when 
my  views  were  so  infinitely  superior  to  his ! 

I  wondered,  for  one  thing,  why  he  should  have  enter- 
tained, of  late,  such  an  excessive  dislike  for  Wallencamp 
and  its  inhabitants.  The  natural  beauty  of  Wallencamp 
had  impressed  me  daily  more  and  more,  and  the  people 
were  harmless,  to  say  the  least.  I  thought  he  should 
have  enjoyed  them ;  he  had  a  humorous  vein  ;  he  was 
not  too  snobbish ;  and  he  seemed  of  a  nature  to  wish  to 
make  himself  generally  agreeable  to  people  ;  but  for 
these  special  objects  of  my  care  he  had  expressed  only 
derision  and  contempt,  with  often  a  touch  of  positive 
malice  ;  and  had  not  been  able  to  abstain  from  giving 
me  a  hard  cut  or  two  on  my  mission,  barely  avoiding  it 
in  his  letter,  and  rejoicing  with  what  seemed  to  me  an 
unwarrantable  warmth  in  the  hope  that  I  should  soon 
quit  forever  the  abominable  place. 

Then,  in  my  miserable  short-sightedness,  my  thoughts 
wandered  indirectly  to  Rebecca.  I  wondered  if  she  had 
taken  to  heart  anything  in  the  acquaintance  she  was  said 
to  have  had  with  Mr.  Rollin,  before  I  came  to  Wallen- 
camp, which  had  caused  the  change  in  her.  I  did  not 
believe  she  had.  The  girl  was  too  artless  and  simple  to 
have  concealed  so  completely  the  resentment  she  would 


204  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

naturally  have  cherished  —  too  childish  to  have  borne  it 
so  silently.  As  far  as  the  fisherman  was  implicated  in 
the  affair,  even  if  he  had  trifled  a  little  for  his  own 
amusement  with  the  vague  impulses,  possibly  the  affec- 
tions, of  this  unsophisticated  girl,  the  act  was  by  no 
means  unprecedented  among  people  of  wealth  and 
respectability.  It  was  a  diversion  in  which  Arthur 
Grey  and  Stephen  Montgomery  would  not  have  indulged, 
perhaps,  "  but  this,"  I  mused,  "  is  a  sadly  commonplace 
sort  of  world,  viewed  in  the  broad  daylight  of  wisdom 
and  experience  (and  with  such  penetrating  rays  I  felt 
my  own  optics  to  be  only  too  wearily  oppressed) ;  we 
must  give  up  our  high  ideals,  take  people  as  we  find 
then,  and  submit  gracefully  to  the  inevitable." 

Still  I  was  in  as  much  of  a  quandary  as  ever  as  to 
what  I  should  choose  to  consider  the  inevitable  in  my 
own  path.  It  never  occurred  to  me  in  this  dilemma  to 
seek  advice  from  the  elder  members  of  my  own  family. 
They  knew  nothing  really  of  my  situation  in  Wallencamp, 
and  even  if  they  had  been  informed  more  truthfully  in 
regard  to  it,  I  thought  they  could  hardly  be  expected  to 
appreciate  the  peculiarly  trying  circumstances  in  which  I 
was  placed  just  at  present. 

Mothers  were  excellent  for  mending  gloves,  taking 
ink  stains  out  of  white  dresses  with  lemon  juice,  etc., 
etc. ;  but  there  were  certain  exigencies  in  the  remote 
and  exalted  life  of  those  who  go  on  "  missions  "  which 
their  humble  though  loving  skill  must  ever  fail  to 
reach. 

I  did  write  home,  by  the  way,  for  more  spending- 
money.  I  had  been  obliged  to  send  to  Boston  for  a  few 
of  the  latest  novels,  fresh  ribbons,  cologne  water,  and 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  205 

various  other  articles  indispensable  to  the  career  of  a 
truly  devoted  propagandist.  I  preferred  my  request  no 
longer  as  the  dependent  offspring  seeking  gifts  from  a 
fond  and  indulgent  parent,  but  as  the  solicitor  of  a  mere 
temporary  loan,  until  I  should  be  able  to  draw  on  my 
salary  at  the  close  of  the  term. 

One  morning,  having  inured  myself  to  extreme  world- 
liness  of  soul  and  begun  a  deliberately  reckless  response 
to  the  fisherman's  letter,  I  looked  out  through  my  win- 
dow to  see  the  Cradlebow  trudging  manfully  down  the 
lane,  with  a  grotesquely  antiquated  portmanteau  in  his 
hand,  and  the  general  air  of  one  who  has  started  a-foot 
on  a  journey. 

With  a  singular  readiness  to  be  diverted,  I  found  that 
the  picture  was,  somehow,  not  conducive  to  further 
worldliness  of  meditation  ;  and  when  in  the  evening, 
Mrs.  Cradlebow  came  in  to  call,  in  her  mantilla,  the 
impression  thus  made  on  my  mind  was  inexpressibly 
deepened. 

Mrs.  Cradlebow  was  not  a  frequent  caller.  She  had 
almost  earned  among  the  Wallencampers  the  direful 
anathema  of  "  not  being  neighborly." 

She  informed  me,  while  the  singers  were  gathered,  as 
usual,  at  the  Ark,  that  Luther  had  gone  to  make  fare- 
well visits  to  his  friends.  He  had  three  married  sisters 
living  in  different  parts  of  the  State.  They  had  chil- 
dren. The  children  were  very  fond  of  him,  and  he  was 
going  on  such  a  long  voyage.  Mrs.  Cradlebow  was 
looking  beyond  the  singers,  her  eyes  shining  clear  and 
sad  above  the  pathetic  smile  on  her_  lips  — 

"  And  he  says  he  shan't  come  back  again  until  he 
comes  to  give  me  such  pleasure  as  I  never  dreamed  of." 


206  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

Those  words  come  to  me  now,  either  as  part  of  the 
endless  mockery  of  life,  or  as  strains  of  hidden  music, 
deep  and  true,  running  ever  beneath  the  world's  dull 
misinterpretation. 

Afterwards,  the  choir  of  voices  in  the  room  formed 
an  effectual  shield  for  confidential  conversation. 

"  You  don't  know  what  a  good  boy  he's  always  been 
to  me,  teacher,"  Mrs-  Cradlebow  continued,  with  a  man- 
ner unusual  to  her,  I  thought,  as  of  one  seeking  for 
sympathy  ;  "  so  that  I've  learned  to  depend  so  much  on 
him,  more,  I  think,  than  on  anybody  else.  Some  boys 
when  they're  growing  up  so,  they  feel  independent  and 
they  answer  you  back  short,  but  the  older  he  grew,  the 
gentler  he  was  to  me,  always,  and  if  he  had  any  trouble, 
it  never  made  him  cross  to  me  ;  and  I  think  it's  harder 
to  see  anybody  so  than  if  they  was  cross,  for  he's 
quick  in  ways,  I  know,  but  when  things  go  real  hard 
against  him,  he's  patient." 

"  He  ought  not  to  know  much  about  trouble  yet,"  I 
answered  hopefully,  with  the  consciousness  of  one  who 
has  fathomed  all  the  mysteries  of  grief  and  can  yet 
speak  gayly  of  the  forlorn  background. 

"  He  doesn't  know  enough  about  the  world,  I'm 
afraid,"  said  Mrs.  Cradlebow,  and  her  eyes,  fixed  on 
my  face,  seemed  to  me  to  be  looking  gently  into  my 
inmost  heart.  "  He  expects  so  much,  and  he  never 
looks  out  for  himself.  I  wish  he'd  be  content  to  go 
fishing  with  the  other  boys — they  always  come  back  in 
the  autumn  —  and  not  want  to  sail  so  far." 

I  was  almost  angry  because  of  the  embarrassment  I 
felt  under  that  clear  glance. 

"  Don't  you  think,  Mrs.  Cradlebow,"  I  said  nervously; 


CAPE    COD    FOLKS.  207 

"  that  young  people  are  never  content  until  they  find 
out  the  world  for  themselves?"  It  was  an  interroga- 
tion, but  it  was  sagely  uttered. 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  she  said.  "  Perhaps  it's  best  he 
should  go."  She  spoke  very  quietly  and  with  uncom- 
mon composure  of  demeanor.  She  withdrew  her  eyes 
from  my  face,  but  the  smile  trembled  on  her  lips,  and  I 
knew  that  her  heart  was  breaking  over  the  words,  for 
Luther  was  her  darling. 

I  wished,  almost  impatiently,  for  my  own  part,  that  it 
might  all  have  happened  differently ;  that  I  might  leave 
everything  in  Wallencamp  just  as  I  had  found  it,  so 
delightfully  happy  and  peaceful  it  had  seemed  to  me. 
I  could  not  bear,  in  looking  back,  to  think  of  one  face 
as  wearing  upon  it  any  unaccustomed  grief.  At  all 
events,  I  felt  that  my  thoughts  had  been  helplessly 
turned  from  their  prescribed  channel,  and  the  fisher- 
man's letter  remained  from  day  to  day  still  unanswered. 

Meanwhile,  winter  was  vanishing  at  the  Cape.  As 
salient  points  in  its  quaint  and  cherished  memory,  I 
recall  the  frequent  clamming  excursions,  when  we  rat- 
tled down  to  the  beach,  at  low-tide,  in  a  cart  whose 
groaning  members  lacked  every  element  of  elasticity. 
Often  there  were  as  many  as  sixteen  persons  in  one 
cart,  and  the  same  number  of  hoes  and  baskets — the 
baskets  being  filled  with  small  children  as  a  means  of 
keeping  both  them  and  the  children  stationary. 

Grandma  was  always  present  on  these  occasions,  and 
the  hilarity  of  the  Wallencampers,  as  they  were  jounced 
and  joggled  over  the  stones,  in  a  manner  which  to  some 
might  have  been  productive  of  great  bodily  agony,  con- 
cealed, with  them,  no  undercurrent  of  nervous  dread  or 


208  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

pain.  They  were  kind  enough  to  regard  the  presence  of 
the  "  teacher "  as  indispensable  to  their  complete 
enjoyment,  while  I  was  ready  to  congratulate  myself 
that  my  society  alone  was  the  object  desired,  for  though 
I  brought  my  near-sighted  vision  to  bear  faithfully  upon 
the  sands,  I  never  succeeded  in  capturing  a  clam. 

I  heard  that  Bachelor  Lot  had  confided  aside  to  Cap- 
tain Sartell  that  "  Teacher'd  ought  to  bring  a  hook  and 
line.  The  clams  'ud  go  for  it  in  a  minute  if  she'd  only 
bring  a  hook  and  line  ;  "  and,  stung  by  the  unsheathed 
sarcasm  of  this  remark,  I  was  accustomed  afterwards  to 
wander  off  towards  "  Steeple  Rock."  The  rock  was 
accessible  at  low-tide,  and  from  thence  I  could  watch 
the  ocean  on  one  side,  and  the  clam-diggers  on  the 
other ;  could  see  Grandma  on  her  hands  and  knees,  a 
dot  of  broad  good  nature  in  the  distance,  always  remain- 
ing apparently  in  the  one  place,  and  always,  somehow, 
getting  her  basket  full  of  clams  as  she  gradually  sank 
deeper  and  deeper  into  the  briny  soil  ;  but  no  true 
Wallencamper  ever  caught  cold  by  soaking  in.  the 
brine. 

I  could  distinguish  Madeline  wandering  lightly  about 
among  the  rocks,  scraping  off  mussels  with  her  hoe  ; 
and  the  Modoc,  the  champion  clam-digger  of  all,  spread- 
ing her  tentacles  here  and  there,  and  never  failing  to 
come  up  with  a  bivalve.  It  was  a  picturesque  scene, 
viewed  from  the  great  rock  ;  and  when  the  tide  began 
to  sweep  in  again,  George  Olver  sent  a  piercing  whistle 
along  shore,  to  call  the  stragglers  together ;  clams, 
children,  and  all  were  loaded  into  the  cart,  and  jostled 
gayly  homeward  chased  by  the  fresh  sea  breezes. 

For  the  chowder,  which  in  due  course  of  events  arose 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


209 


to  take  its  place  among  the  viands  on  the  Ark  board,  I 
would  leave  it  to  that  sacred  and  tenfold  mystery  with 
which,  to  my  mind,  it  was  ever  enshrouded. 

I  recall  the  exhibitions  held  at  the  school-house,  con- 
fined  exclusively  to  the  native  talent  of  Wallencamp,  at 
which  the  old  and  young  were  assembled  to  speak 
pieces. 

It  v/as  then  that  Aunt  Rhoda  and  Aunt  Cinthia, 
matrons  of  portly  frame  and  perilous  foothold,  engaged 
in  a  metrical  dialogue  concerning  the  robbing  of  a  bird's 
nest,  in  which  lively  diversion  they  assumed  to  have  par- 
ticipated. And  Bachelor  Lot  rendered  "  My  beautiful 
Annabel  Lee  "  with  unique  effect ;  and  Grandma  Keeler 
spcke  mysteriously  though  hopefully  of  — 

"  Hope  and  Harnah 
Double-decked  schooner 
Cap'n  John  Homer 
Marster  and  owner 
Bound  for  Bermudy." 

The  strange  effect  produced  upon  me  by  the  first  of 
these  rhetorical  entertainments  is  still  as  fresh  in  my 
mind  as  though  it  had  been  yesterday,  so  luminous  was 
the  night  with  stars ;  so  loud  and  prolonged  the  prelim- 
inary blowing  of  the  horn  ;  so  festive  the  appearance  of 
the  school-house,  loaded  as  it  was  with  evergreens  ;  so 
abnormal  the  proportions  of  the  stage,  which  had  been 
extended  to  comprise  nearly  two-thirds  of  the  school- 
room. 

It  comes  to  me  again,  the  first  shock  of  surprise  at 
finding  all  Wallencamp  on  the  stage,  Grandpa  and  I, 
alone,  being  left  like  ostracized  owls  among  the  shrubberj 


2io  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

of  the  auditorium.  Our  sense  of  isolation  was  only 
intensified  by  hearing  the  sounds  of  mirth  which  pro- 
ceeded from  the  other  side  of  the  curtain,  and  seeing  a 
foot  or  an  elbow  occasionally  thrust  out  into  our  own 
green  though  silent  realm. 

Thrice  Aunt  Rhoda  appeared  before  the  curtain  to 
proclaim  in  pregnant  tones,  "  We  are  now  awaiting  for 
Josiah  and  Annie." 

Josiah,  by  the  way,  had  married  a  Wallencamp  girl 
and  taken  her  to  West  Wallen  to  live,  yet  the  two  were 
ever  faithful  attendants  at  the  Wallencamp  festivities. 

"  Declaration  "  after  "  declaration  "  was  announced  by 
Aunt  Rhoda,  and  as  the  declaimers  finished  their  parts, 
they  descended  to  sit  with  us,  until  at  last  the  curtain 
was  drawn  aside,  revealing  Madeline,  alone  upon  the 
stage,  seated  at  her  "  music." 

She  opened  the  Hymnal,  and  struck  the  leading  chord, 
and  straightway,  from  the  Wallencampers,  all  gathered 
now  below,  there  arose  a  burst  of  melody  as  it  had  been 
one  mighty  voice. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  2II 


CHAPTER  XL 

A   WALLENCAMP    FUNERAL. 

R.  'LIHU  DOLE— Harvey's  father— lay 
dying,  and  all  the  Wallencampers  were  assem- 
bled in  and  about  the  house. 

It  was  night,  and  one  was  going  out  from  among 
them  to  launch  his  lonely  bark  on  a  deeper,  more  mys- 
terious ocean  than  that  whose  moan  came  up  to  them 
from  behind  the  cedars.  There  was  awe  on  their  faces, 
and  a  touch  of  terror,  too,  but  above  all  there  was  a 
strange,  childlike  wonder. 

They  had  seen  death  before.  It  might  come  to  them 
at  any  time,  they  knew.  Its  spirit  sounded  in  the  dirges 
of  the  waves  along  the  shore,  yet,  none  the  less,  for 
time  or  fate,  or  moan  of  solemn  wave,  grew  this  exceed- 
ing mystery. 

Was  it  like  a  cold  black  flood,  to  die  at  night,  and  no 
stars  shining  —  a  cold  flood  creeping  more  and  more 
above  the  heart  ?  Oh,  the  wonder  on  those  poor  faces, 
if  there  might  be,  indeed,  some  fairer  harbor  lights 
beyond  death's  tide,  and  gentler  music  lulling  the  dread 
surge,  so  that  the  voyager,  with  untold  joy  at  last,  felt 
the  worn  boat-keel  loosen  on  the  strand  and  drift  off 
from  this  shore  ! 

Emily  and  Aunt  Cinthia  were  alone  in  the  room  with 


212  CAPE    COD  FOLKS. 

the  dying  man.  They  were  his  sisters.  His  wife  had 
been  dead  for  years. 

In  the  adjoining  room  sat  a  group  of  females,  a  single 
candle  burning  dimly  on  a  table  in  their  midst.  Grandma 
Bartlett  was  there,  and  Grandma  Keeler,  and  Aunt 
Sibylla  Cradlebow. 

Occasionally,  a  whisper  from  one  of  these  three 
pierced  the  gloom,  a  whisper  appropriately  sepulchral  in 
tone,  but  more  penetrating  than  any  voice  of  buoyant 
life  and  hope. 

I  sat  in  the  door  with  Madeline,  Rebecca  on  the  step 
below,  very  still  and  thoughtful. 

The  men  and  the  young  people,  for  the  most  part, 
were  waiting  about  outside. 

I  caught  the  low  murmur  of  a  discussion  between 
Captain  Sartell  and  Bachelor  Lot,  who  were  sitting  on 
the  fence,  and  knew  by  the  attitude  of  the  listeners  gath- 
ered around  them,  that  the  subject  was  one  of  no  ordi- 
nary interest.  I  could  not  help  wondering  what  those 
two  argued  concerning  death  and  the  immortality  of  the 
soul. 

The  tick  !  tick  !  tick  !  of  the  clock  sounded  with  per- 
sistent distinctness  in  the  room  where  the  women  sat, 
and  Grandma  Bartlett  sighed,  and  then  came  the  awful 
whisper  :  — 

"  Ah,  death's  vary  sahd  —  vary  sahd." 

Grandma  Bartlett,  superannuated  as  she  was,  was  the 
most  trite  of  the  Wallencampers. 

Aunt  Sibylla  Cradlebow  accepted  the  lifeless  phrase 
with  something  almost  like  a  smile  of  disdain  in  her 
magnificent  eyes. 

"  Oh,  it's  like  everything  else,"  she  whispered.  "  It's 
a  mixter !  It's  a  mixter ! " 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS, 


213 


Once  the  door  of  the  little  bedroom  opened  softly, 
and  Emily  appeared  on  the  scene. 

"  He's  got  most  to  the  end  of  his  rope,"  she  said, 
dryly,  in  answer  to  the  inquiring  faces  lifted  to  her  own. 
There  was  an  unnatural  brightness  in  Emily's  tearless 
eyes,  and  her  tone  was  as  sprightly  as  ever. 

"  He  don't  see  nothin',  and  he  don't  feel  nothin',  and 
he  don't  hear  nothin',"  she  continued  ;  "  and  it's  sech 
poor  work  a  breathin',  he's  most  give  that  up,  too.  It 
might  stop  any  minute  and  he  not  know  it.  Cinthy's 
cryin' ;  I  don't  see  nothin'  to  cry  about.  It'll  storm  before 
to-morrow,  likely  —  it's  dark  enough,  Lord  knows  —  and 
them  east  winds  always  hurt  him  so.  '  I  don't  know 
whether  he's  worse  off,  or  better  off,  Cinthy,'  says  I, 
'  or  whether  he's  off  entirely.  But  I  don't  believe  a 
righteous  God  '11  make  poor  'Lihu  suffer  any  worse  than 
he  has  in  the  last  ten  weeks.'  But  it's  strange,  all  the 
time  I  was  a'  sittin'  there  by  him,  when  he  was  worst,  it 
kept  comin'  up  before  me,  jest  as  he  was  when  he  was 
a  little  boy.  I  hadn't  thought  on  him  so  for  years,  but  it 
seemed  jest  as  though  'twas  back  in  New  Hampshire, 
where  we  was  born,  a'  playin'  around  the  old  mill  again. 
Him  and  me  was  the  youngest,  we  was  always  together, 
and  I  couldn't  'a'  called  him  up  so  before  me,  to  save 
me ;  but  there  he  was,  as  plain  as  life,  with  his  little 
blue  checked  apron  on,  a  skippin'  along  towards  me 
over  the  logs,  and  his  eyes  a  dancin',  and  the  wind  a 
blowin'  his  hair  out ;  and  all  the  while  I  couldn't  help 
a  knowin'  that  'Lihu  was  a  man  grown,  a  dyin'  there 
before  me  on  the  bed. 

" '  Seems  as  though  a  man  that's  been  a  wearin'  out 
as  long  as  he  has  had  ought  to  die  easier,  Cinthy,'  says 


214 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


I.  '  It's  pretty  hard  to  have  forty  years'  consumption, 
and  then  go  off  with  a  fever.'  '  We  can't  question  the 
Lord's  doin's,'  says  Cinthy.  But  for  all  that,  she  would- 
n't stay  in  the  room  to  see  him.  He  couldn't  ketch  his 
breath  and  he  was  as  crazy  as  a  loon.  Lord,  how  he 
worried  !  Afl  day,  yesterday,  he  was  a  loadin'  ship 
down  to  the  shore.  It  would  a'  made  your  bones  ache 
to  hear  him  workin'  so  ;  and  all  night  long  he  was  a 
loadin',  and  a  loadin.'  Thinks  I,  won't  there  never  be 
no  end  to  this,  for  I  felt  hard,  and  him  a  loadin'  and  a 
loadin'  all  through  them  long  hours,  jest  as  faithful  as 
life,  with  his  eyes  like  blood,  and  the  sweat  a  rollin' 
off'n  him.  He  couldn't  stand  that  forever.  This  morn- 
in'  the  pain  sorter  left  him,  but  there  was  that  one 
idee  on  his  mind.  The  ship  was  all  loaded,  and  he'd 
got  to  wait  for  high  tide  to  git  it  off,  and  he  wanted  to 
go  to  sleep,  but  he  couldn't,  because  he'd  got  to  watch 
the  tide. 

'"Oh,  if  I  could  only  rest,  now,'  he  kep'  a  sayin', 
weak  and  slow.  '  If  I  could  only  go  to  sleep  now ; '  and 
so  he  moaned  and  moaned. 

"  So  I  got  close  to  his  ear  and  I  says,  '  You  go  to 
sleep,  now,  'Lihu,  and  I'll  watch,'  I  says  ;  'I'll  wake 
you  up  when  it's  high  tide,'  I  says ;  but  he  only  shook 
his  head.  So  then,  I  says,  'Aint  there  none  o'  the 
folks  you  can  trust  to  watch  ? '  And  he  shook  his 
head,  and  so  he  moaned  and  moaned. 

"  By  and  by,  all  of  a  sudden,  'Lihu  looked  up  at  me 
different,  with  his  eyes  wide  open,  so  that  for  a  minute, 
I  was  most  fool  enough  to  think  'Lihu  was  gittin'  well, 
and  he  smiled  as  though  he  wanted  to  say  something. 
So  I  leant  over.  'I — know  —  somebody,'  he  says,  as 


CAPE   COD    FOLKS.  215 

slow  as  that,  for  he  was  all  worn  out.  'Who  then, 
'Lihu?'  says  I.  'Jesus,'  says  he,  with  that  queer, 
smilin'  look,  as  though  it  was  the  naturalest  thing  on 
earth.  'He'll — wake  —  me — up  —  when  — ,'  and  he 
couldn't  wait  no  longer,  his  head  fell  over  as  heavy  as  a 
log,  and  that's  the  way  he's  been  ever  since,  sleepin' 
like  death. 

"  Wall,  Cinthy  thinks  somebody'd  ought  to  come  in 
and  make  a  prayer.  '  He  wasn't  a  perfessor,'  says  she. 
'Lord  knows,  if  he  had  a  been,'  says  I,  'there'd  be 
more  need  on't!'  'Anyway,'  says  I,  'he  can't  hear 
nothin',  it  won't  do  him  no  harm.'  So  I  thought  I'd 
come  out  and  see.  It'll  make  Cinthy  feel  easier." 

There  was  a  whispered  consultation  among  the 
women,  but  Emily  came  over  to  where  I  sat. 

"  Come,  teacher,"  said  she.  "  Your  voice  ain't  as 
raspin'  as  some,  and  you've  got  a  knack  o'  stringin' 
words  together,  that  sound  likely,  and  don't  hit  nobody 
—  you  come  in." 

"  Hush  !  "  I  cried,  grasping  the  woman's  hand,  think- 
ing only,  then,  that  it  would  seem  like  sacrilege  for  any 
one  to  speak  aloud  in  the  room  where  one  was  waiting 
for  Christ  to  wake  him.  I  had  forgotten  at  that  mo- 
ment that  I  was  out  of  the  habit  of  praying,  even  for 
myself.  Emily's  tale  had  moved  me  so,  it  seemed  only 
its  sweet  and  fitting  consummation,  and  nothing  incred- 
ible to  my  mind  then,  that  Christ  should  come  down 
out  of  the  starless  sky  to  touch  that  heavy  sleeper's 
brow. 

It  was  finally  decided  that  there  should  be  a  quiet 
little  prayer-meeting  in  the  room  where  the  women  sat. 
in  behalf  of  Mr.  'Lihu's  soul ;  but  before  all  the  prelim 


2l6  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

inary  steps  had  been  taken,  and  the  men  and  youth 
noiselessly  ingathered,  Mr.  'Lihu's  breathing  had  ceased, 
without  a  parting  pang  or  gasp,  and  the  tide  was  at  its 
full. 

Harvey  had  been  standing  with  a  group  near  the  door. 
Once  at  some  irrelevancy  in  the  proceedings,  while  the 
women  were  organizing  the  prayer-meeting,  I  heard  his 
irrepressible  little  giggle  creeping  in  ;  but  when  the  words 
so  mysteriously  uttered  were  passed  out  to  him  — 
"  'Lihu's  gone  !  "  —  the  poor  boy,  realizing  only  at  that 
instant  their  terrible  meaning,  that  his  father  had  indeed 
gone,  gone  away  from  him  forever,  ran  forward  a  pace  or 
two,  and  then  fell,  with  his  face  to  the  ground. 

So  he  lay,  shaking  and  sobbing  helplessly. 

Grandma  Bartlett,  standing  in  the  door,  studied  him 
for  some  moments  with  her  fossilized  eyes  :  — 

"  Fatherless  and  motherless,  now,"  said  she.  "  Poor 
creetur,  humph  !  vary  sahd." 

Then  she  blinked,  and,  simultaneously,  the  subject 
seemed  to  have  slipped  from  her  mind,  and  she  to  have 
become  vaguely  contemplative  concerning  worlds  and 
ages  remote. 

The  boy  was  still  lying  prone  on  the  ground,  when  I 
left  the  place  of  mourning  with  Grandma  and  Madeline. 
I  spoke  to  him,  and  shrank  instinctively  from  his  face 
as  he  turned  it  towards  me.  It  was  swollen  and  disfig- 
ured with  weeping.  He  had  bruised  it,  too,  in  falling. 
He  rose,  trembling,  and  walked  with  me.  For  my  own 
part,  the  emotional  had  given  place  to  feelings  of  a 
more  sustained  and  ordinary  nature. 

I  strove  to  impress  upon  Harvey's  mind  the  beautiful 
and  poetic  manner  in  which  his  father  had  been  released 
from  his  sufferings. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


217 


I  reminded  him  of  the  shortness  of  life,  "  even  from 
your  point  of  view,  Harvey  ;  "  and  the  necessity  there  was 
always,  for  not  allowing  ourselves  to  be  overcome  by  our 
griefs  or  passions,  or  diverted  from  the  supreme  satis- 
faction of  performing  our  appointed  tasks,  etc. 

And  Harvey  listened  patiently  throughout,  and  said 
"good  night,"  with  a  brave  attempt  at  a  smile,  and  a  sob 
still  choking  in  his  throat. 

I  turned  an  instant,  to  look  at  him  as  he  walked  away. 
He  wore,  generally,  a  coat  of  ministerial  form  and  com- 
plexion ;  this,  taken  in  connection  with  his  round,  laugh- 
ing face,  his  boyish  figure,  and  propensity  for  playing 
tricks,  had  often  made  me  smile,  hitherto.  But,  now, 
there  was  something  in  the  attitude  of  those  long,  black 
tails  that  brought  the  tears  to  my  eyes. 

It  occurred  to  me,  indirectly,  what  Emily  had  said 
about  my  stringing  words  together,  and  I  marvelled  if 
possibly  my  exhortation  had  soared  over  poor  Harvey's 
head  and  left  his  heart  aching  for  an  ordinary  word  of 
sympathy,  or  a  simple  reference  to  One  who  as  a  man  of 
sorrows,  was  best  fitted  to  understand  and  console  his 
grief.  To  any  sentiments  of  the  latter  nature,  Harvey 
was  particularly  susceptible. 

"  Children,  all  of  them  !  "  Thus  gently  apostrophizing 
the  Wallencampers,  I  dismissed  the  cause  of  my  brief 
mental  discomfiture,  with  a  half-pitying  smile. 

The  day  after  Mr.  'Lihu's  death,  I  looked  down  from 
my  desk  in  school  to  see  the  infant  Sophronia  weeping 
bitterly. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Sophronia  ? "  I  said. 

"  Carietta's  been  to  see  the  cops  twice,"  she  sobbed ; 
"  and  I  ain't  been  any." 


2i 8  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

I  only  gathered  from  this  that  C  arietta  was  somehow 
implicated  as  being  the  cause  of  the  infant  Sophronia's 
sufferings. 

"  Now,"  said  I  gravely  ;  "  tell  me  what  you  mean  ?  " 

"  She  means  the  cops  !  "  cried  Carietta,  her  small  face 
distorted  with  a  leer  of  the  most  horrid  satisfaction. 
"  'Lihu's  cops.  Throny  means  the " 

"  That  will  do,"  I  said.  "  I  understand  you  perfectly. 
I  understand  you  only  too  well.  This  is  about  as  bad," 
I  reflected ;  "  as  anything  in  my  experience." 

After  admonishing  my  pupils  with  that  sincere  emotion 
to  which  the  occasion  had  given  rise,  that  they  should 
speak  always  respectfully  of  their  elders,  but  especially 
in  the  most  tender  and  solemn  tones  of  the  dead  ;  after 
pointing  out  to  them  the  perniciousness  of  a  low  and 
vulgar  curiosity,  and  expatiating  on  the  vastness  and 
superiority  of  the  spiritual  life,  compared  with  the  earthly 
and  carnal,  I  paused,  only  to  give,  further  on,  a  fuller 
illustration  to  my  words,  and  said  :  — 

"  Now,  Sophronia,  you  have  an  immortal  soul  ? " 

There  was  evidence  of  some  faint  hankering  in 
Sophronia's  face  as  she  mentally  ran  over  the  list  of  her 
possessions. 

"  No'm,"said  she;  "  I  hain't  —  but  I've  got  a  corny- 
copia ! " 

I  think  it  was  then  and  there  that  my  hopes  for  the 
elevation  of  juvenile  Wallencamp  received  their  death- 
blow, and  my  labors,  which  had  before  been  cheered  by 
a  dream  of  partially  satisfying  success,  at  least,  took  on 
an  utterly  goal-less  and  prosaical  form. 

These  children,  I  was  forced  to  admit,  regarded  the 
day  of  Mr.  'Lihu's  funeral  as  a  holiday  of  rare  and 
special  interest,  mysteriously  bestowed  by  Heaven. 


CAPE  COD   FOLKS.  219 

Aunt  Rhoda  had  previously  informed  me  that  it  was 
expected  I  would  have  no  school  that  afternoon. 

The  West  Wallen  minister  officiated  on  the  occasion 
with  an  aspect  neither  more  nor  less  funereal  than  he 
had  worn  at  Lovell's  wedding.  He  spoke  in  such  a 
labored,  trumpet-like  tone  of  voice  that  the  Wallen- 
campers  seemed,  at  first,  inspired  with  a  lively  hope, 
expecting  momentarily  that  his  breath  would  give  out, 
but  in  this  they  were  doomed  to  ever-increasing  disap- 
pointment. 

At  length,  Captain  Sarteil  drew  a  bucketful  of  fresh 
water  from  the  well,  and  passed  it  around  the  room, 
winking  expansively  at  each  individual  in  turn,  by  way 
of  silent  encouragement  and  support. 

Grandma  Bartlett,  observing  the  generally  tearless 
aspect  of  the  community,  conscientiously  attempted  to 
weep,  but  being  entirely  out  of  tears,  at  her  time  of  life, 
she  only  succeeded  in  screwing  her  face  up  into  what, 
in  earlier  years,  might  have  appeared  as  a  lachrymose 
expression,  but  now  took  the  shape  of  a  fixed  and  ogreish 
grin. 

The  infant  Sophronia  was  seated  on  a  bench  of  an 
exceedingly  temporary  nature,  between  Grandma 
Keeler  and  Aunt  Lobelia,  both  persons  of  weight,  and 
it  so  chanced,  or,  rather,  it  followed  as  a  matter  of 
course,  an  equal  pressure  being  applied  to  both  sides, 
that  the  board  sustaining  the  three,  broke  directly  under 
that  diminutive  victim  of  fate,  awaking  her  thereby  from 
feverish  slumber  ;  and  whether  the  infant  Sophronia  had 
an  immortal  soul  or  not,  no  one  there  present  could 
doubt  that  she  possessed  an  uncommon  pair  of  lungs. 

The  little  room  where  we  sat  was  hot  and  overcrowded, 


220  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

and  the  thought  was  running  in  my  mind  continually, 
"  Poor,  restless  Wallencampers !  and  how  happy  Mr. 
;Lihu  is  not  to  have  any  connection  with  his  funeral." 

When  the  procession  was  about  to  start  for  the  bury- 
ing-ground,  the  request  was  made  to  me  that  I  would 
blow  the  horn,  even  as  the  bell  is  usually  tolled  on  such 
occasions,  for  it  would  seem  inappropriate  for  one  of  the 
Wallencampers  to  do  so,  they  all  having  been  related  to 
the  deceased. 

At  such  a  time,  I  could  not  refuse,  though  the  emotions 
with  which  I  crossed  over  to  the  school-house  to  perform 
this  grim  duty,  were  of  a  nature  best  known  to,  and 
appreciated  by,  myself.  My  terror  of  the  Wallencamp 
horn  had  waxed  daily.  I  believed  that  there  was  nothing 
in  the  whole  world  of  inanimate  things  on  which  I  would 
not  sooner  have  attempted  to  sound  a  funeral  dirge. 
Though  capable  of  some  variety  of  expression,  it  had 
never  yet  been  seduced  into  emitting  any  sound  in  the 
least  indicative  of  the  designs  struggling  in  the  mind  of 
the  blower.  The  human  was  paralyzed  before  it  —  a 
mere  machine  to  blow  into  it  and  let  come  what  would. 
And,  now,  for  the  first  time  in  my  experience,  it  took  on 
a  jubilant  strain.  I  blew  slowly ;  I  blew  solemnly.  Still, 
it  sounded  like  nothing  else  than  a  glad,  exultant  rally- 
ing-call. 

I  paused,  horrified.  From  the  rear  of  the  moving 
procession,  Aunt  Patty,  with  a  yell  and  a  frantic  gesture 
of  the  hands,  entreated  me  to  "  keep  a  blowin' !  " 

And,  as  I  stood  thus  on  the  steps  of  the  deserted 
school-house  and  blew,  only  to  hear  the  wild  lamenta- 
tions of  my  soul  translated  into  strains  of  fiendish  mirth 
through  the  medium  of  the  horn,  the  Turkey  Mogul, 


I   STOOD  ON  THE   STEPS  OF   THE   DESERTED  SCHOOLHOUSE    AND 
BUEW."      Page  220 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  221 

arrived  on  his  second  visit  of  examination  to  the  Wallen- 
camp  school,  seemed  to  be  descending  before  my  eyes, 
in  a  vortex  of  the  giddy  atmosphere.  In  fact,  he  was 
alighting  from  his  buggy,  and  a  grim,  though  reassuring 
smile  sat  on  his  features. 

"  I  see  !  I  see  !  "  he  nodded  his  head.  "  You've 
given  them  a  good  start,"  he  added,  succinctly,  indicat- 
ing the  direction  of  the  Wallencampers ;  "  humph  I 
yes  !  they  are  always  up  to  something  !  "  . 

He  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and,  maintaining 
the  same  sardonic  grin,  he,  too,  stood  and  watched  that 
receding  column. 

It  was  an  odd  combination  of  circumstances.  I  had 
ceased  my  mad  though  involuntary  jubilate,  on  the 
horn,  and  was  slowly  aspiring  to  that  equanimity  of 
mind  which  the  exigencies  of  the  case  seemed  to  re- 
quire, when  the  Turkey  Mogul  turned  abruptly,  and 
without  speaking  a  word,  handed  me  a  soiled  and 
wrinkled  little  sheet  of  paper,  the  contents  of  which 
caused  my  heart,  for  an  instant,  to  cease  beating,  and 
then  set  it  throbbing  with  a  wild  joy  and  exultation. 

It  was  simply  a  petition  —  wrought  out  of  whose  brain 
I  know  not,  but  most  curiously  inscribed  in  Aunt  Patty's 
own  hand,  and  signed  by  all  the  Wallencampers,  with 
"  CAPTAIN  SARTELL,"  at  the  head,  and  "  b.  lot " 
at  the  foot  —  to  the  effect  that  it  was  their  desire  that 
my  labors  might  be  longer  continued  among  them. 

Only  one,  who,  having  made  a  play-day  of  life,  turns, 
at  last,  to  attempt  some  earnest  work,  and  fails,  as  he 
believes,  utterly,  and  then  catches  a  glimpse  of  unex- 
pected light  in  the  darkness,  can  understand  the  impulse 
given  me  by  that  dirty  little  scroll.  It  was  such  happi- 


222  CAPE    COD  FOLKS. 

ness  as  I  had  never  felt  before.  It  made  me  strangely 
weak. 

"You'll  stay,"  said  the  Turkey  Mogul,  at  length, 
•'  another  term,  or  we'll  consider  this  term  extended,  if 
you  please." 

"  I'll  stay  a  few  more  weeks,  anyway, '  I  said,  and  the 
Turkey  Mogul  must  have  marvelled  at  the  childish  faith 
and  joy  with  which  I  clung  to  this  new-found  rock  of 
my  salvation  ;  "  but  I  hadn't  thought  of  it  before,"  I 
added,  a  little  faintly,  thinking  of  home. 

"  You're  tired  !  "  said  the  Turkey  Mogul,  almost  sym- 
pathetically ;  "  and  hungry  !  "  he  subjoined,  quickly,  in 
a  different  tone. 

I  knew  by  this  time  that  the  Turkey  Mogul's  eyes 
were  dangerously  prone  to  have  twinkles  in  the  corners 
of  them,  yet  I  believe  I  met  their  derisive  questioning 
with  a  simple  seriousness  in  my  own. 

"  Well,  that's  right !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Stick  to  'em  ! 
Stick  to  'em!  I'll  be  down  to  conduct  another  — 
humph  !  another  examination  in  a  week  or  two.  Good- 
bye ! "  and  he  gave  me  his  hand,  and  was  off  almost 
before  the  little  line  of  mourners  had  disappeared  over 
the  crest  of  the  hill.  Yet  I  remember  that  Grandma 
Bartlett,  who  had  been  deterred  by  the  infirmity  of  age 
from  joining  the  procession,  and  had  remained  at  the 
window,  alone,  regaled  the  Wallencampers,  on  their 
return,  with  a  choice  fancy,  in  which  the  Turkey  Mogul 
and  I  had  stood  "  talkin'  and  chatterin'  on  the  school- 
house  steps,  for  an  hour  or  more."  Grandma  Bartlett, 
though  not  actively  disposed  to  work  mischief,  nor  pos- 
sessed, indeed,  of  any  animate  quality,  still  cherished  a 
few  of  the  dry  formulas  of  scandal,  which  she  applied  to 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  223 

any  seemingly  favorable  combination  of  circumstances. 
The  Wallencampers,  at  any  time,  paid  but  little  attention 
to  her  words. 

And,  at  the  close  of  this  strange  day,  I  sat  alone,  in 
my  little  room  in  the  Ark,  and  indited  a  letter  to  the 
following  effect :  — 

"  Having  received  gratifying  overtures  from  the  peo- 
ple of  my  charge,  I  had  decided,  for  reasons  which  I 
could  not  then  explain,  to  remain  at  Wallencamp  until 
May,  to  which  time  I  looked  forward  with  the  delight- 
ful hope  of  seeing  my  dear  ones  once  more. 

"Meanwhile,  I  hoped  they  would  not  consider  it 
strange,  or  ungracious  of  me  to  say  that  I  should  very 
much  prefer  not  to  have  Brother  Will,  or  any  one  else, 
come  to  Wallencamp  to  look  after  me,  as  Brother  Will 
and  some  others  had  kindly  suggested  doing.  It  would 
seem  to  imply  that  I  was  not  capable  of  taking  care  of 
myself,  a  mania  which  I  trusted  no  longer  held  posses- 
sion of  the  family  brain.  Moreover,  Wallencamp, 
though  so  charming  a  place,  had  but  few  facilities  for 
the  accommodation  of  guests.  I  should  draw  on  my 
salary,  now,  very  shortly,  and  would  then  remit  the 
sums  I  had  borrowed  in  mere  temporary  embarrass- 
ment," etc. 


224  CAPE   COD  FOLKS- 


CHAPTER  XII. 

BECKY'S  CONFESSION. 

HE  Wallencamp  bonfire,  like  Christmas  or  a 
Fourth  of  July  celebration  in  less  ingenious 
and  erratic  communities,  came  only  once  a  year. 
It  was  kindled  on  Eagle  Hill,  that  runs  out  from  the 
mainland  of  Wallencamp  into  Herrin'  River,  —  the 
Wallencampers  called  the  Hill  an  island,  —  and  from 
most  points  of  view  it  answered  to  the  geographical 
description  of  "  Land  entirely  surrounded  by  water," 
seeming,  indeed,  to  stand  solitary  in  the  river,  with  an 
air  of  infinite  repose  on  its  broad,  sloping  sides ;  green 
and  gold,  so  I  remember  it  ever,  with  the  sun  setting 
over  it  in  the  spring-time,  — green  and  gold,  in  a  crimson 
river ! 

It  had  an  air  of  sublimity,  too,  looking  over  and 
beyond  the  cedars  to  the  bay,  and  down  the  length  of 
the  winding  stream  that  fretted  at  its  feet  or  lapped 
them  quietly. 

There  I  planned  to  build  a  house,  in  some  bright 
future  day,  that  should  be  in  effective  keeping  with 
the  natural  grandeur  of  the  place,  —  quaint,  lordly,  sub- 
stantial, with  the  appearance  of  having  fallen  somewhat 
into  disuse,  ivy  growing  over  the  dark  stone  walls,  and 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


225 


moss  in  the  winding  drives,  and  carved  lions  at  the 
gate. 

The  hill  was  a  favorite  resort  of  mine,  and  Rebecca 
had  generally  accompanied  me  on  my  excursions  thither. 

Once  she  said  —  it  was  in  the  days  when  she  had 
been  happier —  "  I  guess  this  place  is  just  as  God  made 
it  to  begin  with." 

Rebecca  had  been  struck  with  and  had  retained  an 
idea  which  she  had  probably  heard  promulgated  some- 
time at  the  West  Wallen  Sunday-school,  that,  at  the  time 
of  man's  spiritual  fall,  the  earth  also,  with  all  terrestrial 
things,  had  undergone  a  general  mixing  up.  Her  own 
idea  in  regard  to  Eagle  Hill  she  expressed  very  modestly, 
looking  off  with  a  childish  content  and  assurance  in  her 
eyes.  And  I  was  delighted  with  her. 

"  You  are  always  thinking  such  things  as  that,"  I  ex- 
claimed, enthusiastically.  "  I  know  you  are  !  " 

Rebecca  blushed,  smiling,  and  shook  her  head. 

"  I  ain't  often  sure,"  she  said. 

I  think  I  told  her  then  that  when  I  had  my  house  on 
the  hill,  she  should  be  the  housekeeper  to  guard  my 
keys  and  conduct  my  affairs  ;  "  that  is,  my  dear,  attend 
to  all  the  little  practical  details  connected  with  living," 
and  Rebecca,  to  whom  my  castles  on  the  Hill  were  never 
castles  in  the  air,  but  who  believed  most  implicitly  that 
I  would,  sooner  or  later,  perform  all  things  that  ever  I 
dreamed  of  doing,  accepted  her  prospective  matronship 
with  a  becoming  sense  of  its  advantage  and  dignity. 

Eagle  Hill  was  haunted  by  a  horse,  a  pure  white 
horse  —  not  Lovell's  —  with  a  flowing  mane  and  tail, 
and  a  beautiful  arched  neck.  His  motions,  the  Wallen- 
campers  said,  were  most  fiery  and  graceful.  Occa- 


226  CAPE  COD  FOLKS 

sionally  he  paused  and  fell  back,  quivering  on  his 
haunches,  looked  this  way  and  that,  and  then,  with  a 
wild  plunge,  swept  on  again,  swifter  than  before.  Every 
true  Wallencamper  could  both  see  and  hear  the  "  white 
horse  "  when,  at  night,  clearly  outlined  against  the  sky, 
he  galloped  back  and  forth  along  the  very  summit  of 
the  hill. 

It  was  on  one  of  the  blackest  nights  of  the  season 
that  the  fuel,  which  less  grand  and  poetic  souls  would 
doubtless  have  reserved  for  another  winter's  use,  was 
borne  in  jubilant  triumph  by  the  Wallencampers  up 
the  sides  of  this  sacred  and  illustrious  steep,  and  there 
consumed  in  a  most  glorious  conflagration.  The  spec- 
tacle was  appalling.  At  intervals  in  the  roaring  and 
crackling  of  the  flames  was  heard  the  roar  of  the  near 
ocean,  while  the  familiar  features  of  the  landscape  and  the 
faces  of  the  encircling  spectators,  stood  out  with  unreal 
and  terrible  distinctness  in  the  hellish  light. 

Emily,  who  had  coughed  all  the  way  climbing  up  the 
hill,  stood  stirring  the  fire  with  a  long  pole,  and  making 
reckless  and  facetious  remarks  the  while,  which,  uttered 
in  the  midst  of  that  unearthly  scene,  struck  me  cold 
with  horror. 

"  Come,  Bachelder,"  said  she  ;  "  git  onto  the  end  of 
my  pole,  and  I'll  hold  ye  over  there  a  while.  Ye  might 
as  well  be  gittin'  used  to  it !  " 

"  Heh  !  yes,"  said  Bachelor  Lot.  "  But  what  I'm 
a  thinkin'  is,  you'd  ought  to  have  a  subordinate.  I  never 
heered —  heh  !  —  of  putting  a  person  of  such  importance 
in  the  Kingdom  —  heh  !  —  however  efficient  —  into  the 
position  of  Fire  Tender  !  " 

"  Crazy   Silvy "  was   at   the   bonfire.     I   had   never 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


227 


seen  her  before.  Silvy  did  not  go  out  on  ordinary 
occasions.  I  watched  her  as  she  stood  with  a  scant, 
thin  shawl  thrown  over  her  head,  looking  intently  into 
the  flames,  shivering  often,  and  smiling  as  she  moved 
her  lips  in  apparently  delightful  conversation  with 
herself. 

Some  of  the  children  essayed  to  tease  her  ;  she  seemed 
quite  unconscious  of  their  efforts,  but  I  turned  and 
spoke  to  them  rather  sharply.  The  next  time  I  looked 
up,  her  strange,  smiling  eyes  were  fixed  full  on  my  face. 
I  glanced  away  quickly,  with  a  nervous  shiver,  and  moved 
a  little  farther  off.  As  I  did  so,  Silvy,  regarding  me  in 
that  same  dreamily  contemplative  manner,  walked 
toward  me  a  step  or  two,  and  as  I  continued  to  move 
away,  she  walked  slowly  after  me. 

My  acquaintance  with  the  unconfined  insane  had  not 
been  extensive  enough  to  allow  me  to  regard  her 
motions  with  that  mingled  amusement  and  curiosity, 
which  was  the  only  sentiment  expressed  on  the  counte- 
nances of  the  Wallencampers  who  stood  watching  us  ; 
but  I  concluded  that  it  was  better  to  face  about,  and 
meet  my  pursuer  with  an  air  of  fearlessness.  I  did  so, 
and  held  out  my  hand  to  her  as  she  came  up. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Silvy  ?  "  I  said. 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  Silvy,  thrusting  her  hands  behind 
her,  laughing  softly,  and  shaking  her  head.  "  Not  with 
the  queen  of  heaven  !  Not  with  the  queen  of  heaven  !  " 

I  thought  I  detected  Emily's  derisive  influence  in 
this  poor,  simple  creature's  words.  Silvy  was  so  per- 
fectly mild  and  harmless  in  appearance,  however,  that  I 
began  to  feel  reassured. 

"  I've  heard  about  you,  Silvy,"  I  continued,  cheer- 


228  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

fully.  "  I'm  the  teacher,  you  know.  You've  heard 
them  speak  of  the  teacher  ? " 

"  So  glad,"  continued  Silvy,  in  the  same  low,  cooing 
tone ;  "  so  glad  to  meet  the  queen  of  heaven." 

"  Hush  !  "  said  I  then.  "  You  mustn't  say  that  again. 
Draw  your  shawl  up  tighter."  For  in  spite  of  the  bon- 
fire, the  wind  was  blowing  cold  on  the  hill. 

While  I  spoke  Silvy  had  become  absorbed  in  watching 
the  fire  again.  I  would  have  walked  quietly  away,  but  as 
I  turned  to  go  she  thrust  her  head  towards  me  quickly 
and  whispered  :  — 

"  Wait !  don't  —  you  —  ever  —  tell !  " 

Silvy  put  her  hand  to  her  lips. 

"  No,"  said  I,  smiling. 

"  Silvy  never  told,"  she  went  on  ;  "  except  to  you. 
You've  got  a  key.  Silvy's  got  a  key.  She  keeps  things 
all  locked  up,  Silvy  does.  Emily  don't  have  any  key. 
She  talks  —  she  talks  all  over — don't  you  tell  —  but 
Silvy  lives  with  Emily — so  bad,"  said  Silvy,  heaving  a 
gentle  sigh  and  speaking  in  a  tone  of  the  deepest 
confidence ;  "  so  bad  not  to  have  any  key." 

"  That's  true,  I  think,"  said  I,  beginning  to  find  my 
strange  companion  rather  interesting. 

"Yes."  Silvy  nodded  her  head  several  times  as 
though  we  understood,  we  two,  and  she  was  delighted 
to  have  discovered  the  fact. 

Then  her  eyes  wandered  again  to  the  fire,  and  she  re- 
sumed her  happy,  smiling  conversation  with  herself. 

I  thought  she  had  forgotten  me,  or  concluded  not  to 
unlock  anything  with  her  key,  when  she  turned  slowly 
and  looked  at  me,  and  seemed  to  gather  up  the  lost 
train  of  her  ideas  in  my  face. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


229 


"  Silvy  watched  the  fishermen  at  Emily's,"  she  went 
on.  "  They  said,  '  Poor  Silvy  ! '  '  See  you  again  next 
time,  Silvy  ! '  They  are  very  p'lite,  thank  you,  and  they 
laugh  once.  '  Ha  !  ha  ! '  But  David  Rollin,  he  laughs 
twice.  '  Ha  !  ha ! '  and  behind  his  sleeve,  too.  Such 
things  are  damnable  !  " 

Silvy's  dulcet  tones  ran  over  that  hard  word  with  the 
mildest  and  softest  of  accents. 

"  And  they  bring  wine,"  she  continued.  "  Silvy 
cl'ared  off  the  table  one  night.  She  heard  'em  sing, 
and  they  says  to  him,  'What  about  pretty  Beck  ?'  and 
he  says  '  We  must  have  a  little  fun,  you  know,  ha !  ha  ! ' 
and  then,  'ha!  ha!'  behind  his  sleeve.  Now  if  Silvy 
could  keep  it  all  together,  you'd  straighten  it  out  maybe. 
Silvy  can't  straighten  it  out.  Where  did  she  hear  so 
much,  I  wonder !  She  hears  too  much,  Silvy  does." 

She  knitted  her  brows  in  pitiful  perplexity. 

"  You  were  talking  about  the  fishermen,"  said  I. 

"  No,"  said  Silvy,  shaking  her  head;  "about .Beck. 
She  never  says,  '  Crazy  Silvy  !  There  she  goes  !  Look 
at  Silvy  ! '  She  says,  '  Come  and  see  me,  Silvy,'  so. 
So  soft  spojcen.  Silvy  loves  her." 

"I  love  her,  too,"  I  said,  gently;  for  Silvy  had  paused 
again,  and  was  knitting  her  brows  in  that  painful  man- 
ner, as  though  the  effort  to  think  gave  her  actual  phys- 
ical suffering. 

"  Silvy  knows  !  Silvy  knows  !  "  She  exclaimed  sud- 
denly, her  face  all  smooth  and  softly  smiling  now. 
"Never  —  you  —  trust  a  neat  man,"  impressively. 
"  Never  you  trust  'em  —  for  why  ?  They  wasn't  made 
so.  God  made  'em.  God  made  'em  to  clutter.  And 
(.here  was  that  Dave  Rollin.  He  was  always  a' 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

hangin'  things  up.  He  was  always  foldin'  of  'em.  He 
was  always  a  hangin'  'em  up  in  his  room.  Silvy  knows. 
But  there  was  a  piece  of  writin'  got  over  behind  the 
bury.  And  it  didn't  fall.  But  it  stuck.  Silvy  knows. 
She  reads  writin'.  She  reads  it  over  and  over.  He 
didn't  love  Beck  any  more.  But  he's  afraid.  And  he'll 
give  money.  '  Oh,  go  anywhere  !  Only  keep  still,  Beck. 
For  Heaven's  sake,  keep  still.'  Why,  she  wouldn't 
hurt  him !  Beck  wouldn't  hurt  him,"  said  Silvy,  in  a 
slow  tone  full  of  wonder. 

"  He  needn't  be  afraid.  But  Silvy  won't  tell  him  so. 
Why  not  ?  Oh,  she  likes  to  be  amused.  Silvy  likes  to 
be  amused  ! 

"  Silvy  knows  !  Silvy  knows  !  "  She  continued,  after 
another  terrible  pause.  "  She  set  eyes  on  you,  standin' 
there.  That's  the  one,  she  says,  and  she  says  it  a  long 
time.  That's  the  queen  of  Heaven.  She  wouldn't 
hurt  Silvy,  poor  Silvy  !  She's  got  a  key.  So  she'll 
straighten  it  out  maybe.  Silvy  can't,  she's  so  tired. 
When  Silvy  got  up  in  the  mornin',  it  was  early.  Oh,  so 
still!  And  a  bird  was  flyin'  up  —  up.  Silvy  couldn't 
see  —  so  far  to  heaven.  It  made  Silvy  cry.  So  strange 
not  to  be  any  tired  in  the  mornin'." 

Silvy  made  a  last  painful  effort  to  collect  her  thoughts, 
before  her  face  resumed  its  habitual,  far  away,  half  smil- 
ing expression. 

Then  she  said,  "  Silvy  comes  up  the  hill  all  alone. 
Not  the  way  them  others,  and  she  see  the  fire  burnin'. 
But  it  was  dark  in  the  bush.  Silvy  heard  'em  talkin' 
terribly.  It  was  Beck  and  George  Olver.  '  I'll  make 
an  honest  home  for  you,  Beck.'  And  she  says,  terribly, 
she  no  deserve.  And  he  says,  she  better  than  him,  and 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  231 

won't  she  come  ?  And  she  cries  so,  '  My  heart  is 
broke ! '  And  how  good  to  live  with  him  she  knows, 
now  —  so  honest  and  true  —  but  she  no  fit,  and,  oh, 
'  My  heart  is  broke  !  my  heart  is  broke  ! '  " 

The  scene,  the  vividness  of  these  words  had  not  yet 
faded  in  the  least  from  Silvy's  memory. 

"  Then,"  said  she  ;  "  they  keep  on  talkin',  terribly. 
But  Silvy  —  she  hears  so  much  —  poor  Silvy!  She 
goes  'round  very  still,  'nother  way.  Silvy's  tired." 

And,  as  unceremoniously  as  she  had  approached  me, 
she  turned  and  walked  slowly  back  to  her  old  position 
before  the  fire.  She  did  not  look  at  me.  She  seemed 
to  have  become  utterly  unconscious  of  my  presence. 
The  scant,  thin  shawl  had  fallen  back  from  her  head. 
She  shivered  as  she  stood  gazing  into  the  flames,  but 
the  dreamy  expression  was  ever  in  her  eyes  and  the  soft 
laugh  on  her  lips,  as  she  continued  murmuring  to  her- 
self. 

The  Wallencampers  were  not  content  to  let  the  fire 
go  out  after  the  first  grand  illumination.  They  were 
bringing  up  more  brush  from  the  landward  side  of  the 
hill,  amid  a  confusion  of  wild  shouts  and  excited  laughter. 

I  found  Rebecca  among  a  group  of  girls. 

"When  you  go  home  to-night,"  I  said;  "I  want  you 
to  step  in  and  see  me.  Come  up  to  my  room." 

"Yes,"  said  Rebecca,  and  I  noticed  how  pale  she 
turned  in  the  fire-light.  I  did  not  say  any  more  to  her, 
then. 

After  hearing  Silvy's  story,  I  believed  that  Mr. 
Rollin  had  acted  a  heartless  and  unmanly  part  towards 
Rebecca,  made  love  to  her  which  he  could  not  doubt 
the  poor  girl  took  in  earnest,  and  even  promises  which 


232 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


he  knew  he  should  lightly  break  sometime,  and  then,  for 
his  own  purposes,  he  begged  her  to  keep  silence.  I 
thought  I  understood,  and  resolved  to  instruct  Rebecca 
to  forget  the  red-haired  fisherman ;  to  be  "  sensible," 
and  "  marry  good,  honest  George  Olver,"  who  loved  her 
so  devotedly. 

Lute  Cradlebow  had  come  home,  and  was  one  among 
the  many  figures  at  this  brilliant  fete.  Indeed,  the  bon- 
fire had  been  deferred  until  later  than  usual  in  the  sea- 
son, by  reason  of  his  absence,  and  now  he  was  notice- 
ably the  lion  of  the  evening,  in  a  brave  dark  blue  cravat 
that  was  borne  outward  by  the  wind,  or  fluttered  becom- 
ingly under  his  chin,  to  the  envy  and  despair  of  all  the 
Wallencamp  youth.  He  exchanged  a  pleasant  greeting 
with  every  one,  and  brought  the  largest  young  tree  of 
all  up  the  hill  on  his  broad  shoulders. 

When,  at  length,  the  Wallencampers  had  permitted 
the  fire  to  burn  low,  they  joined  hands  in  a  ring  around 
the  embers,  and  sang  the  saddest  and  sweetest  songs  in 
the  Hymnal.  I  sat  on  a  rock  near  by,  engaged  as  I 
had  been  much  of  the  time  since  my  arrival  in  Wallen- 
camp, in  trying  to  realize  the  situation  —  the  awful 
gloom  of  the  night,  the  river  now  invisible,  below,  the 
sound  of  the  surf  farther  off,  that  made  my  heart  sick, 
and  with  it  the  strange  mingling  of  those  religious 
songs,  the  lonely  hill,  the  smouldering  fire,  the  fantas- 
tic group  gathered  around. 

When  I  got  back  to  the  Ark,  I  found  Rebecca  wait- 
ing for  me.  She  followed  me  up  to  my  room,  and  I 
closed  the  door. 

"  You  see  I  waited  long  enough  for  you  to  come  of 
your  own  accord,"  I  said,  laughing.  Then  I  drew  a 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  233 

chair  in  front  of  her.  She  sat  at  the  foot  of  the  bed, 
and  I  addressed  her  gravely  :  — 

"  Now,  Becky,  something  is  the  matter.  You  are  not 
the  merry,  light-hearted  girl  you  were  when  I  first  knew 
you.  And  I  can  help  you,  perhaps.  I  will  help  you. 
Tell  me  what  the  trouble  is  !  " 

I  thought  I  should  see  the  tears  gathering  in 
Rebecca's  eyes,  but  she  looked,  instead,  so  stonily  dis- 
consolate, that  I  was  rather  dismayed. 

"  I'm  going  to  tell  you,"  said  she  ;  "  but  you  can't  help 
me.  They'll  all  know  before  long,  I  guess.  I  don't  care. 
You  talk  good,  but  you  don't  say  much  about  God.  I 
guess  you  don't  believe  there  is  none.  I  don't.  I  can't 
understand.  I'm  like  I'd  got  lost,  somehow,  and  when 
they  found  me,  they'd  stone  me  —  I  don't  care.  I've 
felt  enough.  I  don't  feel  no  more.  I've  cried  so  much, 
I  guess  I  can't  cry  no  more.  If  I  could  it  'ud  be  now, 
tellin'  you. 

"  When  Miss  Waite  came  here  to  teach,  I  hadn't  ever 
had  no  friend  except  the  girls  here,  and  they  wasn't  bad, 
but  we  was  always  runnin'  wild  around  in  the  lots,  and 
down  to  shore,  and  always  laughin'  and  plaguin'  the 
teacher  in  school.  And  when  Miss  Waite  came,  she 
wasn't  like  you,  nor  she  didn't  have  such  clothes,  nor 
such  ways  as  yours.  I  didn't  love  her  very  much,  but 
she  used  to  talk  to  me,  and  wanted  me  to  be  a  Christian. 
And  she  didn't  tell  me  all  it  was  to  be  a  Christian  like 
you  have,  or  I  wouldn't  'a'  been  such  a  fool  to  think  I 
could  be;  but  she  talked  like  it  wasn't  anything  to 
understand,  only  to  want  Christ  in  your  heart,  and  try 
to  be  good,  and,  first,  I  didn't,  pretend  to  mind  much 
what  she  said,  and  used  to  tell  the  girls,  and  they'd  tell 


234  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

me,  too,  and  we'd  laugh.  Only  one  time,  she  was  talkin1 
to  me,  and  it  seemed  as  though  I  couldn't  hold  out  no 
longer,  and  I  cried  and  cried,  and  when  I  got  up  I  felt 
happy.  Just  as  though  He  was  there.  Seemed  as 
though  He  was  all  around  everywhere,  and  goin'  down 
the  lane,  there  was  a  whip-poor-will  singin',  and  it 
sounded  like  it  never  had  before  —  so  strange  and  happy 
—  and  I  always  loved  'em  after  that —  but  I  never  shall 
again. 

"  And  I  tried  to  be  good,  and  quieter,  and  have  the 
other  girls  and  the  children  at  home  ;  and  when  father 
was  drunk  and  noisy,  and  some  of  the  folks  laughed,  I 
wouldn't  give  up  —  quite.  Oh,  I  didn't  feel  like  I  was 
bad  then !  I  didn't !  You  might  remember  that.  I 
hadn't  much  manners,  but  I  never  thought  anything  bad. 
Some  time  you  might  remember  that. 

"  Then  Mr.  Rollin  came,  and  he  might  'a'  killed  me, 
and  it  'ud  been  a  kindness  ;  but  he  hadn't  no  such  kind 
heart  as  that.  He  used  to  make  excuses  formeetin'  me. 
He  wouldn't  look  at  any  of  the  other  girls.  He  said  he 
couldn't  see  no  beauty  in  anybody  else.  He  said  I  was 
the  only  one  on  earth  he  loved.  He  said  he  wouldn't 
care  what  became  of  him  if  I  wasn't  good  to  him. 

"  I  thought  George  never  talked  to  me  so  much  as  that, 
and  I  trusted  him  every  word.  It  was  all  so  different. 
I  thought  I  loved  him,  too.  He  talked  about  how  he 
should  take  me  to  Providence,  and  I  said  I  hadn't  much 
manners  or  education,  and  they'd  laugh  at  me.  He  said 
there  wasn't  another  such  a  face  there,  and  if  he  was 
suited,  they  might  laugh.  And  he  used  to  talk  about  how 
I'd  look  all  dressed  up  in  his  house,  down  there  — and 
I  don't  see  !  I  don't  see  !  I  trusted  every  word. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  235 

"  It  wouldn't  have  been  no  different,  anyway.  I  loved 
you  when  you  came.  When  he  went  with  you,  I  tried 
to  hate  you.  I  hated  him,  but  I  never  hated  you  !  In 
my  heart,  teacher,  I  never  hated  you.  You  might  think 
of  that,  some  time 

"  Well,  my  dear  little  girl,"  I  interrupted  her  ;  "  it 
seems  we  have  both  been  deceived  in  the  fisherman,  but, 
doubtless,  we  shall  recover  in  time.  You  don't  like 
him,  neither  do  I.  We'll  dismiss  the  subject  from  our 
minds,  forever.  There's  a  good,  honest  boy  here  in 
Wallencamp  that  a  girl  I  know  ought  to  busy  her  head 
about.  Why  trouble  ourselves  with  disagreeable 
things  ? " 

"  You  might  think,  some  time,"  Rebecca  went  on,  with 
the  same  hopeless  expression,  and  in  the  same  tense 
voice  ;  "  I  never  knew  that  about  not  trustin'  anybody 
till  you  told  me.  I  hadn't  never  be'n  away  from  here. 
I  wasn't  brought  up  like  you,  and  I  wasn't  so  strong  as 
you  —  you  might  think,  some  time  —  but  not  now.  I 
don't  ask  to  have  you  now — you  don't  see.  I  knew 
you  wouldn't  —  you  can  forget  —  you're  so  happy  — 
think  of  that,  sometime,  how  happy  you  was,  sittin'  there 
—  but  I  never  can  forget  any  more.  I  say  it  'ud  be'n 
better  if  I'd  a  died.  It's  the  sin  and  the  shame.  I've 
nothin'  but  to  bear  'em,  now,  as  long  as  I  live.  Oh,  you 
might  think  what  it  was  not  to  have  no  hope  any- 
wheres !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  I  cried,  as  it  rushed  over  me 
in  that  instant  what  I  had  been  too  heedless  and  slow 
to  comprehend,  the  possible  wretched  meaning  of  her 
words.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  rising  and  standing 
over  her,  with  a  terrible  sense  of  power  to  convict. 


236  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

"Oh,  Becky,  you  didn't  mean  that  —  worst?" 

"Yes,"  said  she,  with  no  visible  change  on  her  poor, 
set  face  —  "yes — I  do." 

"  I  wish  you  would  go  out  of  my  room,  and  leave  me  !  " 
I  exclaimed,  then ;  "  I  am  not  used  to  such  people  as 
you  !  Do  you  suppose  I  would  have  been  with  you  all 
these  weeks  if  I  had  known  ?  Don't  you  see  how  you 
have  wronged  me  ?  I  never  want  to  see  you  again, 
never  !  Go  !  go  !  and  leave  me  alone  !  " 

I  shall  never  forget  the  look  with  which  Rebecca  rose 
wearily,  and  went  to  the  door  —  not  an  angry  look,  not 
a  look  of  terror  nor  even  of  pleading  reproach ;  but  it 
was  as  if  her  soul,  sinful,  crushed  and  bleeding  though 
it  was,  in  that  one  moment,  rose  above  my  soul  and 
condemned  it  with  sorrowful,  clear  eyes. 

I  listened  to  her  step  going  down  the  stairs.  I  did 
not  call  her  back.  I  heard  her  latch  the  outer  door  of 
the  Ark.  No  thought  of  pity  for  her  wrong,  or  commisera- 
tion for  her  desolation  moved  me.  I  thought  only  in  my 
proud  selfish  passion,  how  miserably,  how  bitterly  I  had 
been  deceived. 

I  sought  out  the  fisherman's  letter  before  retiring, 
and  the  one  I  had  begun  in  answer,  and  tore  them  both 
into  shreds,  believing  that  I  should  as  easily  rid  my  mind 
of  the  whole  miserable  affair  with  which  I  had  been 
unwittingly  complicated. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


237 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  MILD  WINTER  ON  THE  CAPE. 

T'S  be'n  a  mild  winter  on  the  Cape ; "  the 
Wallencampers  congratulated  one  another, 
blinking,  with  a  delicious  sense  of  warmth  and 
comfort,  in  the  rays  of  a  strong  March  sun. 

The  Wallencampers  were  not,  perhaps,  generally  in- 
cited by  that  love  of  stern,  unceasing,  and  vigorous  exer- 
tion which  is,  geographically  considered,  one  of  the 
chief  characteristics  of  our  hardy  northern  races.  True 
poets  and  idealists,  they  were  lazy,  and  they  had  but 
few  clothes,  both  excellent  reasons  for  inclining  kindly 
to  the  warm  weather. 

And  yet,  notwithstanding  this,  they  had  grown  used 
to  a  wild  ruggedness  of  nature  and  condition,  a  terrible, 
sublime  uncertainty  about  life  and  things  in  general 
when  the  wind  blew,  missing  which,  in  this  earthly  state, 
they  would  have  pined  most  sadly.  And  I  do  not  be- 
lieve that  they  would  have  exchanged  their  rugged,  storm- 
swept,  wind-beleaguered  little  section  of  Cape  Cod  for 
a  realm  in  sunny  Italy  itself ;  no,  not  even  if  the  waves 
of  that  bright  clime  had  rippled  over  sands  of  literal 
gold,  and  their  winter  had  been  nine  months  in  the  year 
instead  of  the  customary  six  and  a  half. 

"A  mild   winter  on   the   Cape."     Grandpa   Keeler 


238  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

often  repeated  the  words  ;  and  sitting  by  the  fire  at 
night,  his  eyes  grew  big  and  wild,  and  his  tones  took  on 
a  terrible  impressiveness  as  he  told  of  rough  winters  on 
the  Cape,  when  the  snow  lay  drifted  high  across  the 
fences  in  the  lane,  and  "  every  time  she  came  in  yender  " — 
pointing  in  the  direction  of  the  Bay  —  "she  licked  off 
a  slice  or  two  o'  bank,  and  the  old  Ark  whirled  and 
shuk — O  Lordy,  teacher!  —  as  ef  she'd  slipped  her 
moorin's  and  gone  off  on  a  high  sea,  and  ef  you'd  a 
heered  the  wind  a  screechin'  inter  them  winders,  you'd 
a  thought  the  "— 

"  Bijonah  Keeler  !  "  Grandma  Keeler  spoke.  She 
said  no  more.  It  was  enough. 

"You'd  a  thought  something  had  got  loose,  sure," 
concluded  Grandpa,  with  a  keen  glance  aside  to  me  that 
revealed,  as  with  tenfold  significance,  the  obstructed 
force  of  his  narrative. 

In  the  daytime,  Grandpa  was  now  much  out  of  doors. 
He  had  most  frequent  and  loving  recourse  to  an  inter- 
esting looking  pile  of  rubbish  at  the  south  end  of  the 
barn.  There  he  sat,  and  napped  and  nodded,  and  em- 
ployed the  brief  interims  of  wakefulness  in  whittling 
bean  poles,  preparatory  for  another  year's  supply  of 
that  dreaded  and  inexorable  crop.  Earth's  disturbing 
•voices,  Grandma  Keeler  herself,  seldom  reached  him 
there. 

Early,  too,  I  saw  him  in  the  garden,  leaning  pensively 
on  his  hoe  —  a  becalmed  and  striking  figure  in  a  ragged 
snuff-colored  coat,  and  a  hat  marked  by  numerous  small 
orifices,  through  which,  here  and  there,  strands  from 
his  silvery  fringe  of  hair  strayed  and  waved  in  the 
breezes. 


5  o 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


239 


It  was  Grandma  and  Grandpa  Keeler's  custom  at  the 
first  approach  of  spring  to  detach  themselves  from  Made- 
line's household,  and  to  form  a  separate  and  complete 
establishment  of  their  own  in  the  sunny  kitchen,  away  out 
at  the  end  of  the  Ark.  I  was  still,  nominally,  Madeline's 
boarder,  and  sat  at  the  table  with  her  and  the  little 
Keelers;  but  the  impulses  of  my  heart  were  ever  guiding 
my  feet  to  that  other  dear  resort,  where  doors  and  hearts 
seemed  always  open  to  receive  me,  and  an  inexpressible 
warmth  and  light  and  comfort  pervaded  the  atmosphere. 

It  was  early  in  March,  when,  retarning  from  school 
one  day  at  the  noontide  intermission,  I  found  Grandma 
standing  without  the  Ark,  singularly  occupied.  The 
sun  was  shining  on  her  uncovered  head,  and  the  tran- 
quil glow  on  her  face  was  clearly  the  exponent  of  no 
fictitious  happiness.  In  her  apron  she  had  a  quantity 
of  empty  egg-shells,  so  carefully  drained  of  their  con- 
tents as  to  present  an  almost  perfect  external  appearance, 
and  these  she  was  arranging  on  the  twigs  of  a  large 
bush  that  grew  just  outside  the  window. 

I  was  glad,  afterwards,  that  I  intruded  then  no  skepti- 
cal questions  as  to  her  purpose,  for,  as  I  stood  and 
looked  at  her,  her  action  gradually  lost  for  me  the  tinge 
of  eccentricity,  with  which  it  had  at  first  seemed  imbued. 
I  realized  that  there  was  something  grander  than 
reason,  more  exalted  than  philosophy. 

"  I  suppose  you've  heerd  about  egg-plants,  teacher  ;  " 
said  she,  at  length,  turning  to  me,  while  the  sun  in  her 
face  broke  up  into  scintillant  beams  that  penetrated  my 
being,  and  quickened  my  very  soul.  "This  'ere  old 
bush  ain't  bore  nothin'  for  years,  and  it  looked  so  bare 
and  sorrerful,  somehow,  standin'  out  here  all  alone, 


240  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

and  everything  else  a  kinder  wakin'  up  in  the  spring,  1 
thought  I'd  try  to  sorter  liven  it  up  a  little ; "  and  she 
resumed  her  placid  occupation. 

"  Blessed  Grandma,"  I  could  only  murmur,  as  1 
turned  to  enter  the  Ark  ;  "  inspired,  delightful  soul !  " 

It  was  in  March  that  the  Wallencamp  sun-bonnets 
came  forth,  all  in  a  single  day,  a  curious  and  startling 
pageant.  The  Modoc,  who  had  gone  bareheaded 
through  the  winter,  assumed  hers  as  a  turban  of  im- 
pressive altitude,  while  the  diminutive  Carietta  and  the 
infant  Sophronia  appeared  but  as  vagrant  telescopes 
on  insufficient  pegs. 

In  March  the  "  pipers  "  lifted  up  their  homesick  notes 
at  nightfall,  in  the  meadows.  On  the  last  day  of  that 
month,  I  found  arbutus  in  bloom  under  the  leaves  in 
the  cedar  woods. 

Scarcely  had  the  first  faint  signs  of  herbage  appeared 
on  the  earth  ere  the  Wallencamp  cows  and  horses  were 
given  over  exclusively  to  the  guardianship  of  nature, 
and  to  wander  whithersoever  they  would,  for  the 
Wallencamp  fences  had  ceased  to  present  themselves 
as  obstacles  in  the  way.  Indeed,  some  portions  of 
them  had  been  utterly  obliterated ;  and  this  was  easily 
traced  to  a  habit  prevalent  among  the  Wallencampers 
of  resorting  to  them  for  fuel  when,  on  some  winter 
night,  other  resources  were  found  to  be  low. 

Other  portions  of  them  were  decayed,  or  blown  over 
in  the  wind,  so  that  there  was  just  enough  left  to  sit  on 
for  private  soliloquy,  or  social  debate,  and  to  give  a  pic- 
turesque charm  to  the  landscape  ;  yet,  it  was  a  fact 
which  I  found  worthy  of  notice,  that,  in  going  from  one 
place  to  another,  no  true  Wallencamper  ever  walked 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  241 

over  a  broken-down  part  of  the  fence,  or  went  through 
a  gap  in  the  fence ;  he  always  selected  an  upright  part 
of  the  fence  to  climb  over,  even  going  a  little  out  of  the 
way,  if  necessary,  to  effect  this  purpose. 

The  Wallencampers  were  staunch  on  the  matter  of 
individual  rights  ;  they  turned  each  his  own  horse  and 
cow  into  his  own  door-yard.  Animated,  doubtless,  by 
something  of  the  same  principle,  those  attenuated  an- 
imals, having  made  an  impartial  detour  of  the  premises, 
congregated,  as  of  one  accord,  along  the  highway,  es- 
pecially in  that  part  of  the  lane  between  the  Ark  and 
the  school-house. 

I  made  my  way  through  these  new  perils  from  day  to 
day,  in  safety,  until  the  deepening  green  of  the  hills  and 
fields  called  the  herd  away  to  wider  pastures. 

Dr.  Aberdeen,  however,  remained  behind.  Dr.  Ab- 
erdeen, as  he  was  termed  by  the  Wallencampers,  was 
a  horse  of  peculiar  and  distinguished  parts.  Among 
his  other  eccentric  gifts,  he  had  a  harmless  habit  of 
chasing  beings  of  a  superior  race.  In  what  manner  this 
propensity  had  first  manifested  itself,  I  do  not  know, 
but  it  had  been  eagerly  seized  upon  as  ground  for  fur- 
ther development  by  the  juvenile  element  of  Wallen- 
camp,  and  especially  by  the  Modoc,  under  whose  lively 
tuition  the  animal  had  reached  an  almost  strategic 
ability  in  the  art. 

Dr.  Aberdeen  was  truly  of  the  mildest  disposition 
imaginable.  He  had  never  been  known  to  kick.  He 
had  never  even  been  known  to  open  his  mouth  and 
snap  at  a  fly,  but  the  expression  of  his  countenance,  if 
it  might  be  so  called,  when  he  was  on  the  chase,  was 
vicious  and  determined  in  the  extreme,  and  by  no  means 


242  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

betrayed  the  purely  facetious  nature  of  his  intentions. 
During  school  hours  he  seldom  wandered  from  the  im- 
mediate vicinity  of  the  school-house,  where  he  appeared 
to  be  waiting  for  the  children  to  come  out  to  play. 
Often  have  I  looked  up  to  see  him  gazing  in  at  the 
windows  with  a  gleam  of  evil  expectancy  in  his  melan- 
choly dun  brown  eye. 

With  the  joyful  advent  of  the  spring  came,  also, 
Tommy's  tame  owl  and  "  Happy  Moses."  Tommy's 
owl  emerged  from  his  winter-quarters,  and  took  up  his 
daily  post  of  observation  on  the  fence  on  the  shady 
side  of  the  school-house.  He  was  blind  in  one  eye, 
which  eye  was  always  open,  the  other  was  always  closed. 
Yet  with  that  one  glassy,  unblinking  orb,  Tommy's  owl 
seemed  to  me,  as  I  lifted  my  eyes  to  the  window,  to  be 
reviewing  the  past  with  an  indifference  as  calm  and  all- 
embracing  as  that  with  which  he  sent  his  inexorable 
gaze  into  the  future ;  and  to  take  in  me  and  the  passing 
events  of  the  school-room  as  a  mere  speck  in  his  kalei- 
doscopic vision  of  the  ages. 

What  was  the  winter's  thraldom  from  which  Happy 
Moses  had  escaped,  I  never  learned.  He  was  a  broad- 
shouldered  fellow,  six  feet  in  height,  with  a  beard  like 
flax,  and  a  sunny,  ingenuous  countenance.  What  term 
should  have  been  applied  to  his  eccentricities  in  politer 
circles  I  cannot  say,  but  in  Wallencamp,  he  was  art- 
lessly designated  as  "the  fool."  Whether  it  was  on 
this  account,  that  with  a  certain  rashness  of  perception 
peculiar  to  the  Wallencampers,  they  always  prefixed  the 
adjective  "  happy  "  to  his  name,  or  merely  on  account 
of  the  transparent  sunniness  of  his  disposition,  I  can- 
not say,  either. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  243 

Happy  Moses  played  with  the  children.  He  re- 
garded me,  as  one  of  the  class  of  those  who  presume 
to  teach,  with  mingled  scorn  and  aversion.  When  I 
went  to  the  door  to  blow  the  children  in  from  their  play, 
he  invariably  turned  his  back  upon  me,  cocked  his  hat 
on  one  side  of  his  head,  and  walked  away  with  an  air 
that  was  palpably  reckless,  defiant,  and  jaunty. 

When  he  reappeared,  it  was  usually  with  his  knitting- 
work,  to  which  he  devoted  himself  in  a  desultory  way, 
reclining  on  the  school-house  steps.  But  sometimes  he 
sat  on  the  fence  with  the  owl,  and  then  it  was  noticeable 
that  while  the  gaze  of  the  one  was  transient  and  silly, 
the  gaze  of  the  other  seemed  to  grow  the  more  unutter- 
ably searching  and  profound.  So,  at  last,  the  new  term 
was  fairly  established  with  these  three  —  Dr.  Aberdeen, 
Happy  Moses,  and  the  owl. 

Hulled  corn  and  beans  had  now  become  but  as  a 
dream  of  the  past  in  Wallencamp,  and  for  a  brief  sea- 
son before  the  accession  of  lobsters,  life  was  mainly  sup- 
ported on  winter-green-berries,  or  box-berries,  as  they 
were  called.  These  grew  in  large  quantities  at  "  Black 
Ground,"  a  section  of  the  woods  which  had  been  burned 
over.  Daily  I  met  happy  groups  of  Wallencampers, 
with  baskets  and  pails  in  their  hands,  going  "  boxberry 
plummin'  " 

We  had  boxberry  bread,  boxberry  stews  and  pies,  and 
one  day,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  Grandma,  in  her  part  of 
the  Ark,  frying  boxberry  griddle-cakes. 

Grandpa,  when  I  met  him,  at  this  time,  wore  an  air 
of  deep  dejection ;  yet  he  bore  his  woes  in  silence, 
doubtless  avoiding  any  concession  that  should  suggest 
the  need  of  another  clarification  of  his  system.  Once, 


244 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


when  nobody  was  looking,  he  cautiously  withdrew  a 
handful  of  scraped  birch  bark  from  his  pocket  and 
gave  it  to  me,  remarking  that  he  thought  it  was  "  a  little 
more  bracin'  than  them  tarnal  woodsy  plums." 

Next  in  the  order  of  events,  as  the  Modoc  stood  in 
her  place  in  the  reading-class  and  slowly  enunciated 
each  separate  syllable  of  the  lesson  in  a  tone  as  remark- 
able for  a  loud  distinctness  as  it  was  for  a  total  lack 
of  meaning  and  modulation,  from  that  side  of  her  dress 
which  had  been  sagging  most  heavily,  something  fell 
with  a  crash  to  the  floor.  It  was  a  boiled  lobster  of 
anomalous  proportions.  The  pocket  had  given  way  at 
last  under  its  overpowering  burden,  and  now  appeared 
ignominiously  upborne  on  the  claws  of  its  former  pris- 
oner. The  Modoc  seized  the  crustacean  with  glittering 
defiance  in  her  eyes,  and  at  recess,  I  saw  that  turbaned 
Amazon  devouring  it,  with  a  group  of  wistful  and  ad- 
miring faces  gathered  round.  The  boys  were  out  in  the 
bay  "  setting  pots  "  and  "  trolling  for  bait."  Soon,  not 
a  child  at  Wallencamp  was  lobsterless.  I  discovered 
two  under  the  infant  Sophronia's  desk  one  morning, 
and  afterwards  kept  a  sharp  eye  in  that  direction.  So- 
phronia's conduct  throughout  the  session  was  in  an 
unusual  degree  exemplary.  I  detected  no  guilty  blush 
on  her  countenance,  I  heard  not  the  crackling  of  a  claw, 
but  when  she  went  out.  I  observed  that  she  took  no 
lobsters  with  her. 

Investigating  the  place  where  she  had  been  sitting,  I 
found  a  wild  confusion  of  claws  and  shells,  as  carefully 
denuded  of  meat  as  though  they  had  been  turned  inside 
out  for  that  purpose. 

What  was  my  surprise  and  mortification  to  find  a  like 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  24$ 

collection  at  nearly  every  seat  in  the  schoolroom,  and 
all  the  while  my  flock  had  seemed  unusually  silent  and 
attentive ;  such  proficiency  had  those  children  acquired 
in  the  art  of  dissecting  lobsters. 

I  saw  how  many  they  devoured  day  by  day,  and  how 
much  water  they  drank,  and  I  fancied  that  they  them- 
selves grew  to  partake  more  and  more  of  the  form  and 
character  of  marine  animals.  I  believed  that  they  could 
have  existed  equally  well  crawling  at  the  bottom  of  the 
deep  or  swimming  on  its  surface. 

We  had  lobsters,  too,  at  the  Ark.  For  the  first  day 
or  two  of  this  dispensation,  Grandpa's  face  perceptibly 
brightened.  At  the  end  of  two  weeks  it  was  longer 
than  ever  before. 

He  came  over  from  his  potato  patch,  I  remember, 
and  leaned  on  the  fence,  as  I  was  going  by  to  school. 

"  It's  be'n  a  mild  winter  on  the  Cape,  teacher,"  he 
observed,  studying  the  heavens  with  an  air  of  utter 
abstraction.  Then  his  glance  fell  as  it  were  inadvertently 
in  the  direction  of  the  house,  and  he  immediately  con- 
tinued with  a  peculiar  spark  of  animation  kindling  in  his 
eye  ,  "  I've  et  so  many  o'  them  'tarnal  critters,  teacher, 
that  I  swon  if  I  don't  feel  like  a  'tarnal,  long-fingered, 
sprawlin'  shell-fish  myself !  But  it's  comin'  nigh  time 
for  ale-whops.  They're  very  good,  teacher,  ale-whops 
are  —  very  good,  though  they're  bony  as  the  —  they're 
'tarnal  bony,  teacher.  They're  what  we  call  herrin's  in 
the  winter." 

Grandpa  then  laughed  a  little  and  showed  his  teeth. 

"  I  was  goin'  to  tell  ye,  Bachelder  Lot,  here,"  he  went 
on  ;  "  he  was  a'  askin'  Captain  Sartell  what  kind  o'  fish 
them  was  that  it's  recorded  in  the  Scripters  to  'a'  fed 


246  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

the  multitude,  and  then  took  up  so  many  baskets  full  o; 
leavin's  ;  and  the  Captain  told  him  that  as  to  exactly 
what  manner  of  fish  them  was,  he  hadn't  sufficient 
acquaintance  with  the  book  of  Jonah  to  say,  but,  as  near 
as  he"  could  calk'late,  he  reckoned  they  was  ale-whops. 

"  And  the  Bachelder  told  him  that  it  seemed  to  him 
he  was  right,  and  had  solved  a  mystery,  for  it  stood  to 
reason  that  there  wa'n't  no  other  fish  but  an  ale-whop, 
that  they  could  feed  five  thousand  folks  out  of  seven 
little  ones  and  then  take  up  twelve  bushel  baskets  full  of 
bones ! 

"  And  the  Captain  was  pleased,  and  kind  o'  half  owned 
up  that  he  hadn't  felt  no  ways  sure  as  to  his  surmise 
to  begin  with,  but  he  said  when  the  question  was  put  to 
him,  he  didn't  think  no  man  ought  to  hesitate  to  come 
down  strong  on  a  doctrinal  p'int. 

"Wall,  as  I  was  a  sayin',  teacher,"  concluded  Grandpa, 
his  teeth  still  skinned  and  gleaming,  "  it's  be'n  a  mild 
winter  on  the  Cape." 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


247 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

RESCUED    BY    THE    CRADLEBOW. 

HE  ship  in  which  the  Cradlebow  expected  to 
take  flight  was  to  sail  from  New  Bedford  on  the 
twentieth  of  June.  Meantime,  having  abjured 
my  friendly  relations  with  Rebecca,  and  missing  the 
quiet  sustenance  hitherto  supplied  my  vanity  in  the 
girl's  thoughtful  devotion,  I  found  a  measure  of  relief 
for  my  wounded  spirit  in  the  companionship  of  this  other 
—  my  boyish  and  ardent  ex-pupil. 

Many  times,  after  my  last  interview  with  Rebecca,  had 
I  regretted  that  I  did  not  leave  Wallencamp  at  the  close 
of  the  first  term.  The  school  grew  continually  more  irk- 
some to  me.  I  was  not  so  strong  as  when  I  had  first 
undertaken  it,  and  no  longer  overlooked  the  discomforts 
of  my  situation  in  the  delight  I  had  then  experienced  in 
its  novelty.  Often  I  longed  to  get  away  from  it  all,  to 
rid  myself  abruptly  of  the  perplexities  and  distasteful 
duties  which  bound  me  ;  and  yet,  all  the  while,  there  was 
a  truer  impulse,  a  deeper  longing  within  me,  to  stay. 
Had  I  not  been,  all  my  life  so  far,  forsaking  my  unfin- 
ished tasks,  quitting  an  object  as  soon  as  it  seemed  any 
the  less  attractive.  I  willed  to  stay,  and  labored,  still 
blindly,  under  the  conviction  that  my  regenerating  work 
among  the  Wallencampers  (not  theirs  in  me ;  ah,  no !) 
was  not  yet  accomplished. 


248  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

Toward  Rebecca  I  had  not  softened.  I  was  bitterly 
disappointed  in  her.  She  had  been  the  formless,  pliable 
clay,  on  which  I  purposed  to  prove  my  pet  theories  for 
development  and  culture.  I  had  taken  her  as  a  per- 
fectly fresh  and  untainted  being,  naively  unconscious 
even,  of  the  elements,  either  good  or  bad,  of  which  her 
own  nature  was  composed,  waiting  only  for  the  hand  of 
a  wise  and  skillful  modeller,  like  myself,  to  bring  her  up 
to  the  highest  condition  of  manners  and  morals. 

This  elegant  superstructure,  a  purely  mental  product 
of  my  own,  had  fallen  away,  revealing  the  erring,  pas- 
sionate nature  beneath.  But,  deeply  as  I  mourned  the 
fall  of  my  idol,  I  felt  still  more  keenly  a  sense  of  personal 
injury,  because  the  inner  structure  on  which  I  had  been 
building,  had  not  spoken  out  and  said,  "  I  shall  contami- 
nate you.  I  am  not  fit  for  the  touch  of  your  fine 
hands." 

Clearly  there  could  no  longer  be  any  sympathy  between 
Rebecca  and  me.  I  avoided  any  occasion  for  private 
interview  with  the  girl.  Meeting  her  casually  in  the 
lane,  or  at  the  neighbors'  houses,  I  acknowledged  her 
presence  with  a  nod  or  a  smile,  colder,  I  knew,  than  as 
if  I  had  ignored  her  utterly. 

She  understood  ;  she  was  quiet  and  unobtrusive.  She 
made  no  attempt  to  break  down  the  wall  thus  established 
between  us.  And  I  was  determined,  on  the  whole,  to 
be  more  than  just  with  Rebecca.  I  would  be  kind  to 
her  in  her  disgrace.  I  would  palliate  her  weakness  as 
far  as  I  could  consistently  with  a  pure  and  high  stand- 
ard of  action.  I  even  congratulated  myself  on  the 
magnanimity  of  my  intentions,  except  when  I  met  the 
clear,  sad  gaze  of  those  dispassionate  eyes.  Then  I 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


249 


experienced  an  unaccountable  sensation,  as  though  I 
had  received  a  blow  inwardly,  that  staggered  me,  for  an 
instant,  in  my  fine  conceptions  of  honor,  and  set  my 
conclusions  out  of  order. 

The  Wallencampers  were  quick  to  note  the  estrange- 
ment between  us,  and  affirmed  that  "  Beck  was  mad, 
and  wouldn't  speak  to  teacher,  along  o'  teacher's  goin' 
with  Beck's  beau." 

This  gratuitous  solution  of  the  mystery  was  not 
evolved  in  my  presence.  Still  I  knew,  that  all  through 
those  lonely,  suffering  days,  it  was  often  repeated  to 
Rebecca ;  that  those  who  had  borne  the  girl  any  grudge, 
or  deemed  that  she  was  taking  airs  above  them,  took 
pains,  now,  that  the  taunt  should  reach  her  ears ;  and 
even  the  children,  who  had  always  loved  her,  uttered  it 
before  her  with  childish  thoughtlessness. 

But,  for  the  Cradlebow  ;  his  bright  dream  of  seeking 
his  fortune  over  wide  seas  and  in  distant  lands,  his 
dreadless  enthusiasm  in  the  belief  that  he  should  find 
so  much  waiting  for  him  in  that  unsounded  world,  his 
determination,  above  all,  to  acquit  himself  truthfully 
and  bravely  —  all  these  made  him,  to  my  mind,  ever  an 
object  of  more  inspiring  and  romantic  interest. 

He  seemed,  somehow,  to  have  divested  himself  en- 
tirely of  the  old,  heedless  irresolution.  His  speech 
expressed  little  of  doubt  or  hesitancy.  It  was  full  of  a 
bold,  bright  affirmation  ;  and  his  step,  in  these  days, 
had  none  of  the  ordinary  slow,  smiling,  philosophical 
Wallencamp  shuffle.  He  brought  to  my  weariness  and 
dejection  suck  an  atmosphere  of  vigorous,  tireless  life  ; 
he  was  so  confident,  helpful,  unselfish  ;  I  was  so  faith- 
less and  disheartened  a  burden-bearer;  that  I  grew  al- 


250  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

most  unconsciously  to  find  for  myself  a  certain  rest  in 
his  strength,  which,  whatever  high  and  heroic  qualities 
it  may  have  lacked,  developed,  at  least,  rare  resources 
of  patience,  constancy,  and  forbearance. 

He  did  not  say :  "  You  have  changed  your  mind ; 
you  will  wait  for  me,  teacher,  till  I  come  back  from  over 
the  seas  ?  "  but  his  eyes  were  eloquent.  What  if  I  was 
moved,  I  had  grown  so  weak,  to  answer  their  question, 
at  last,  with  a  half-involuntary  admission  in  my  own. 

Ah,  no !  I  assured  myself  that  my  attitude  towards 
the  Cradlebow  was  sisterly — sisterly,  merely — al- 
though I  might  have  reflected  that  the  yearnings  of  that 
amiable  affection  had  never,  hitherto,  in  the  ordinary 
walks  of  life,  constrained  me  to  hem  so  many  as  a  dozen 
pocket-handkerchiefs  for  my  brothers,  which  irksome 
task  I  cheerfully  performed  as  a  surprise  for  the  sailor 
boy,  not  to  speak  of  a  pair  of  scarlet  hose  which  I  had 
already  begun  to  knit,  under  Grandma's  tuition. 

And  now  the  life  in  Wallencamp  seemed  never  like 
real  life  to  me,  even  in  the  broadest  daylight.  It  was 
like  a  dream  —  the  sweet,  warm,  brightening  of  the  land- 
scape ;  the  vines  growing  over  the  low,  brown  houses  ; 
the  lazy,  summer  voices  in  the  air ;  the  skies,  too,  were 
a  dream  —  and  Luther,  with  his  ideally  beautiful  face 
and  his  quaintness  and  ardor  and  unworldliness,  was  a 
part  of  the  dream.  I  knew  that  when  he  went  away,  I 
should  follow  him  long  in  my  thoughts,  and  wonder 
much  concerning  him  ;  that  at  home  again  with  my  own 
people,  in  gayer,  different  scenes,  I  should  never  hear 
the  wind  blowing  up  strong  at  night,  or  see  the  winter 
settling  down  gloomily,  or  watch  the  opening  of  an- 
other spring-time,  without  following  him  afar  and  won- 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  251 

dering,  with  a  vague,  sorrowful,  tender  regret,  what 
chance  was  befalling  him  in  the  world. 

Then  an  incident  occurred  which  changed,  not  me, 
perhaps,  but  the  complexion  of  my  dream. 

One  afternoon,  at  low  tide,  I  wandered  down  to  the 
beach  and  ensconced  myself  comfortably,  with  book 
and  shawl,  on  the  roof  of  Steeple  Rock.  The  rock  was 
an  old  acquaintance  of  mine  by  this  time. 

There  was  a  group  of  children  playing,  a  little  farther 
down  the  beach.  My  eyes  turned  ever  to  them  from 
the  written  page,  following  them  with  a 'languid  pleasure, 
as  they  revelled  in  the  sand  at  the  water's  edge  with 
their  bare  brown  feet  and  legs.  I  had  a  sense  of  safety, 
too,  in  their  proximity.  I  knew  that  they  generally 
returned  home  passing  by  the  place  where  I  was. 

It  was  warm  on  the  rock.  I  was  very  tired.  As  I 
lay  there,  I  became  only  conscious,  at  length,  that  my 
book  was  slipping  out  of  my  hand,  and  down  the  shelv- 
ing side  of  the  rock,  and  I  was  too  listless  to  attempt  to 
reclaim  it.  I  heard  a  little,  dull  thud  on  the  ground 
below,  and  a  faint  flutter  of  leaves  —  and  the  long, 
white  beach,  the  ragged  cliffs,  the  laughing  children, 
had  faded  from  my  sight. 

Then  I  dreamed,  indeed,  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the 
Avord  ;  I  was  back  again  in  Newtown,  in  my  own  home,  in 
my  own  white  bed,  and  I  was  very  glad,  looking  at  the 
pictures  on  the  wall,  and  out  on  the  familiar  hills.  I 
was  glad  to  hear  my  sister  playing  for  me  down  stairs, 
only  it  was  the  same  tune  always,  and  I  wished  that  she 
would  play  more  softly. 

And  the  pillow  was  hard,  but  I  did  not  mind  that  so 
much,  foi  my  mother  stood  over  me,  looking  very  sweet 


252 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


and  grave,  and  she  said  :  "  Why  didn't  you  tell  us  that 
the  pillow  was  hard  !  " 

My  father  was  there,  too,  and  repeated  the  same 
question,  and  my  brothers,  —  they  all  kept  saying: 
"  Why  didn't  you  tell  us  that  the  pillow  was  hard  ?  "  and 
seemed  to  be  pitying  me  and  admiring  me  at  the  same 
time,  until  John  Cable  came  in,  friend  of  the  old  New- 
town  days,  and  his  face  was  hard  and  stern. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  the  pillow  was  hard?  "he 
said.  "  Now,  I  can't  wake  you !  Don't  you  see,  I 
can't  wake  you,  now  ?  "  and  he  shook  his  head  and 
would  not  look  at  me.  So  they  took  him  out  of  the 
room,  and  went  on  pitying  and  admiring  me,  but  my 
sister  kept  playing  louder  and  louder,  and  it  troubled 
me  so  that  I  could  not  rest.  Then  I  heard  a  voice, 
that  was  not  in  my  dream,  calling  to  me  in  a  sharp, 
clear,  cheering  tone,  "  Teacher !  Teacher ! "  and  I 
looked  up  to  see  Luther  coming  towards  me  in  a  boat, 
his  face  aglow  with  excitement. 

This  first  —  before  I  realized  that  I  had  fallen  asleep 
on  the  rock,  and  that  what  I  had  dreamed  was  my  sister 
playing,  was  the  sound  of  the  tide  coming  in,  and  that  I 
was  already  sprinkled  from  head  to  foot  with  the  spray. 
The  Cradlebow  continued  calling  to  me  cheerily,  and 
would  not  give  me  time  to  consider  the  terrors  of  the 
situation  then,  nor  afterwards,  when  I  strove,  in  my 
half-stunned  condition  of  mind,  to  weigh  and  appreciate 
the  peril  from  which  I  had  been  rescued. 

The  children  had  wandered  a  mile  or  more  along  the 
beach  and  had  gone  home  by  another  road.  It  was  not 
yet  dark.  No  alarm  had  been  occasioned  in  Wallen- 
camp  as  to  my  absence,  but  the  Cradlebow,  knowing 


CAPE   COD   FOLKS.  253 

that  I  had  gone  in  the  direction  of  the  beach,  had  been 
moved  to  search  for  me,  and  had  discovered  me  on  the 
rock,  where,  in  a  few  moments  more,  I  should  have 
waked  to  find  myself  at  the  mercy  of  the  waves. 

My  deliverer  laughed  reassuingly,  sending  the  boat 
leaping  upon  the  shore,  holding  out  his  hand  to  me,  as 
though  this  were  merely  an  everyday  occurrence,  the 
close  of  some  ordinary  excursion,  but,  to  me,  life  had 
suddenly  grown  significant. 

The  strong  warm  hand  which  clasped  mine,  weak  and 
trembling,  as  I  stepped  from  the  boat,  I  must  recognize 
henceforth,  I  knew,  as  the  link  between  me  and  the 
living  world. 

For  several  days  afterwards  I  considered  the  matter  of 
my  relation  to  the  Cradlebow  in  a  new  and  serious  light, 
especially  in  the  light  of  present  gratitude,  with  a  sense 
of  life-long  obligation ;  but  the  Cradlebow  was  too  gen- 
erous and  noble  to  recognize  the  obligation,  or  take 
advantage  of  the  gratitude.  He  loved  me,  I  knew.  He 
had  watched  for  me.  He  had  saved  my  life.  He  should 
know,  I  resolved,  that  if  he  wished  it  still,  I  would  wait 
for  him. 

And  the  idea  was  not  foreign  to  my  heart,  but 
it  grew,  at  last,  too  light  of  wing,  and  disposed  to  take 
up  permanent  abode  in  the  realm  of  fancy.  A  poor, 
handsome  young  lover,  seeking  his  fortune  at  the  ends 
of  the  earth,  and  the  future  —  ah,  it  did  send  a  little  stab 
to  my  conscience,  to  think  that  the  uncertainty  of  that 
lover's  future  should  so  have  heightened,  to  my  mind,  the 
romance  of  the  picture.  However,  meeting  him  in  the 
lane  one  evening,  as  I  was  returning  from  one  of  my 
parochial  calls  —  it  was  just  at  dusk,  I  remember,  and 


254  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

we  stood  under  the  balm-of-Gilead  tree,  in  front  of 
Emily's  gate  —  I  said  very  gravely  and  with  none  of  that 
embarrassment  which  the  occasion  might  seem  to  have 
warranted  :  — 

"  Luther,  although  I  seem  to  myself  mucn  older  than 
you,  we  are  really,  I  suppose,  of  about  the  same  age.  I 
have  known  very  happy  attachments  where  inconsisten- 
cies of  birth,  habit,  education  were  far  greater,  perhaps, 
than  with  us.  I  have  made  up  my  mind  that,  if  you  still 
desire  it,  I  will  wait  for  you." 

"  Wait  for  me,  teacher  !  "  exclaimed  the  Cradlebow, 
opening  his  eyes  with  a  solemn,  wide  surprise ;  "  why,  of 
course ! " 

"  Why,  of  course  ?  "  I  questioned  faintly,  not  knowing 
whether  to  smile  at  being  thus  abruptly  disarmed,  or  to 
feel  the  least  little  bit  piqued  at  the  youth's  unconscious 
audacity. 

"  What  else  should  two  people  do  who  love  each 
other  ?  "  There  was  nothing  either  of  doubt  or  arraign- 
ment in  the  Cradlebow's  serious  eyes.  "  Besides,"  he 
continued ;  "  I've  known  it  all  along.  See  here, 
teacher  !  "  and  he  took  from  his  pocket,  and  carefully 
unfolded,  a  sheet  of  paper  against  the  background  of 
which  there  lay  revealed  a  dainty  star  fish,  most  curiously 
twisted  about  with  some  rare  and  beautiful  sea  vine. 

"  You  won't  find  that  vine  washed  up  on  this  beach 
every  day,"  he  said  eagerly.  "  When  I  showed  it  to 
Granny  — '  If  Heaven  itself  had  spoken,  boy,'  says  she, 
'  I  should  be  no  surer  it  was  a  fair  voyage  waiting  you 
than  I  be  now ; '  though  I  was  thinking  of  something 
besides  the  voyage,  teacher,  but  it's  all  the  same,  it  means 
good  luck ;  and  wouldn't  you  like  to  keep  it  for  us  ?  " 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  2$$ 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  I  answered,  laughingly  refusing  the  deli- 
cate talisman.  "  I  should  blast  its  good  intentions.  I 
should  stifle  it  with  my  cold  unbelief." 

The  Cradlebow  tenderly  replaced  his  treasure,  and 
laughed  with  me  good-naturedly. 

"It  isn't  your  fault,  teacher,"  said  he,  "that  you 
weren't  better  brought  up.  If  you'd  always  lived  with 
our  people,  down  here,  you'd  be  more  believing." 

At  all  events,  my  severe  and  protracted  mental  exer- 
tions had  proved  quite  unnecessary,  I  thought,  although 
after  this  there  was,  in  some  respects,  a  tacitly  admitted 
change  in  our  converse  with  each  other.  A  sort  of  vague, 
venturesome  house-building  for  the  future,  in  which  the 
Cradlebow  seemed  to  wish  that  I  would  oftener  show  an 
interest  in  the  feminine  details  within  doors,  while  I 
had  a  grand  and  absorbing  predilection  for  constructing 
imaginary  grades  and  turrets  and  mediaeval  door-posts, 
receiving  any  thoughtful  suggestions  as  to  tin-kettles 
and  pantry-shelves  with  gracious  and  smiling  forbear- 
ance. 

The  Cradlebow  seemed  particularly  pleased,  when  he 
came  into  the  Ark  of  an  evening,  if  I  chanced  to  be 
knitting  on  the  scarlet  stockings.  I  did  have  a  new  and 
not  unpleasant  sense  of  housewifely  dignity  while 
engaged  at  this  task,  and  undoubtedly  assumed  an  air 
calculated  to  serve  as  an  impressive  exponent  to  my 
emotion.  The  poor  scarlet  stockings  lengthened,  mean- 
while, but  it  was  a  disheartening  and  almost  imperceptible 
growth.  Where  the  article  should  have  been  most  volu- 
minous, at  the  calf  of  the  leg,  it  grew,  in  spite  of  me, 
more  alarmingly  narrow  at  every  round.  This  was  after 
I  had  graduated  from  under  Grandma  Keeler's  tuition, 


256  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

and  assumed  my  own  responsibility  in  the  matter ;  so 
that  I  disdained  to  appeal  to  her  for  assistance  in  the 
dilemma,  but  thoughtfully  devised  means  of  my  own  for 
widening  the  stocking. 

"  I'll  tell  ye  what  it  is,  teacher,"  said  Grandpa,  who 
had  been  regarding  me  with  that  wild  look  which  some- 
times visited  the  old  man's  face  when  a  problem  seemed 
well  nigh  insoluble;  "I'm  afeerd,  teacher,  I'm  afeerd 
that  that  ere  stockin'  ain't  a  goin'  to  fit  nobody!  I'll 
tell  ye  what  it  makes  me  think  on.  It  makes  me  think 
o'  one  o'  these  'ere  accordions  that  ye  open  and  shet. 
I'm  afeerd,  teacher,  that  it  ain't  a  goin'  to  fit !  " 

"Thar!  'sh  !  'sh !  pa,"  said  Grandma,  with  all  the 
unction  of  holy  disapproval ;  but,  for  once,  my  ever  dear 
friend  and  champion  was  compelled  to  turn  her  back 
upon  the  scene. 

In  this  position,  she  exclaimed  in  a  low,  broken  tone 
of  voice  ,  "  There  may  be  legs,  pa,  as  we  don't  know 
on!" 

Grandpa  was  curiously  aroused. 

"  I  tell  ye,  I've  travelled  to  the  four  quarters  of  the 
'arth,  ma,"  said  he ;  "  and  set  eyes  on  the  tarnalest 
critters  under  God's  canopy,  but  I  never  see  anybody  yit 
that  'ud  fit  into  that  'ere.  Besides,"  he  added,  know- 
ingly, in  a  milder  tone  ;  "  I  reckin  that  'ere  stockin's 
meant  for  somebody  nearer  hum,  and  a  pretty  straight- 
legged  fellow,  too." 

I  was  enabled  to  judge  something  still  further  of  the 
speculations  waking  in  the  Wallencamp  brain,  when, 
having  to  keep  Henry  G.  after  school,  one  night,  as  a 
means  of  discipline,  he  bawled  out :  — 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


257 


"  Ye  don't  keep  Simmy  B.  after  school  no  more  !  And 
why  not  ? "  continued  the  aggrieved  infant,  at  the  same 
time  framing  for  himself  an  answer  of  malicious  signifi- 
cance :  "  Oh,  'cause  he's  Lute  Cradlebow's  brother  !  " 

Social  converse  was  at  its  high  tide,  now,  in  Wallen- 
camp  among  the  birds  in  the  trees  and  the  fowls  in 
the  door-yards,  and  quite  as  naturally  and  harmlessly 
so,  for  the  most  part,  I  think,  among  the  beings  of  a 
superior  order.  They  had  little  other  recreation. 

The  bonfire  had  marked  the  close  of  the  gay  epoch 
in  Wallencamp.  It  was  too  warm  now  for  the  livelier 
recreations  of  the  winter.  Religious  interest,  especi- 
ally, was  at  a  low  ebb.  At  the  evening  prayer-meetings, 
the  number  of  worshippers  appeared  but  as  a  handful 
compared  with  the  number  of  the  unconcerned  who  lin- 
gered outside  in  the  pleasant  moonlight.  Conspicuous 
among  these  latter,  replacing  the  fervid  debates  of  the 
winter  with  a  calm  philosophy  befitting  a  warmer  season, 
were  Captain  Sartell  and  Bachelor  Lot. 

The  old  songs  held  the  same  charm  for  them  all,  how- 
ever. They  sang  them  ever  with  pathos  In  their  voices 
and  tears  in  their  eyes. 

The  little  unpremeditated  chats  by  gate  and  roadside, 
the  neighborly  "droppings-in,"  grew  more  and  more 
frequent. 

But  when  poor  Rebecca  was  taken  up  on  the  tide  of 
social  wonder  and  debate,  and  I  heard  whisperings  con- 
cerning her,  and  knew  that  an  evil  suspicion  had  taken 
hold  of  the  mind  of  the  little  community,  and  when 
finally  Emily  said  to  me  ;  "  I  guess  you  done  about 
right  shirking  off  Beck,  teacher.  I  guess  she  ain't  no 


258 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


better  than  she  ought  to  be  :  "  in  spite  of  what  I  felt  to 
be  my  own  unblemished  conscience  in  the  matter  and 
the  justice  of  the  retribution  which  was  overtaking 
Rebecca,  I  went  often  to  my  little  room  and  cried 
bitterly  for  her,  as  well  as  for  myself. 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  259 


CHAPTER  XV. 

DAVID    ROLLIN    IN    THE    SCHOOL-ROOM. 

RS.  PHILANDER  KEELER  grew  kind.  At 
first,  especially  while  the  fisherman  was  in  Wal- 
lencamp,  her  demeanor  towards  me  had  been 
marked  by  a  decided  touch  of  coldness  and  mistrust. 
She  suspected  me,  I  thought,  of  trifling  with  the  Cradle- 
bow  ;  now,  she  invariably  deferred  to  me  as  a  person 
worthy  of  all  honor  and  consideration  —  of  congratula- 
tion even,  in  an  eminent  degree. 

She  assumed  to  be  on  the  most  frank  and  confiding 
terms  with  me.  She  found  a  thousand  little  ways  for 
promoting  my  physical  comfort  that  had  never  occurred 
to  her  before. 

So  I  was  the  more  surprised,  when  after  school,  one 
Friday  afternoon,  as  I  was  sitting  in  my  room,  this  same 
Madeline  suddenly  appeared  before  me  with  her  eyes 
glittering,  her  lips  compressed,  and  her  complexion  of 
that  positive  green  hue  which  it  always  wore  when  she 
was  in  a  high  passion. 

"There's  a  gentleman  down  stairs,  waiting  to  see  you, 
teacher,"  she  said,  with  a  peculiarly  dark  inflection  on 
the  word  gentleman.  "  Oh,  he's  got  on  an  awful  inter- 
esting look  ! "  snapped  out  Madeline,  with  a  spiteful 
little  laugh ;  "  and  a  suit  of  light  clothes,  and  a  new 


260  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

spring  overcoat,  and  he  looked  at  me  as  though  I  was  a 
pane  of  window-glass,  and  he  says,  'Oh  —  ah  —  yes  — 
is  Miss  Hungerford  in  ? '  I  wonder  if  he's  come  back 
to  make  his  farewell  calls  — "  with  another  unpleasant 
laugh.  "  One  thing  I  can  tell  him,  he'd  better  steer 
clear  of  George  Olver  ! " 

Was  ever  a  zealous  young  devotee,  I  pondered,  more 
perplexed ! 

"  Come  this  way,  please,"  I  said,  holding  out  my  hand 
to  Madeline  ;  and  leaning  back  in  my  chair  with  unaf- 
fected weariness,  at  least.  "  Is  Mr.  Rollin  down 
stairs  ?  " 

"  They  call  him  that,  I  believe,"  said  Madeline,  sen- 
tentiously  ;  "  things  don't  always  get  their  right  names 
in  this  world." 

"  Well,  you  may  tell  him,"  I  said  ;  "  that  I  can't  see 
him." 

Madeline's  countenance  changed  wonderfully  in  an 
instant.  She  gave  me  a  bright  look,  and  without 
waiting  for  another  word,  ran  down  the  stairs. 

When  she  came  back  her  tongue  ran  on  glibly  :  — 

"  I  told  him,"  said  she  ;  "  that  you  couldn't  see  him, 
and  he  kept  on  in  that  window-glass  way  of  looking, 
and  his  head  as  high  as  ever,  and  he  took  his  hat  and 
'  I'm  very  sorry,'  he  says,  '  that  Miss  Hungerford  is 
indisposed,  and  I  hope  I  shall  have  an  opportunity  of 
seeing  her  this  evening.' 

"  He  said  he  came  to-day,  and  was  going  away  to- 
morrow morning,  and  he  had  something  of  importance 
to  communicate,  and  I  knew  he  expected  I'd  go  up  and 
see  you  again  about  it,  but  I  didn't.  So  he  said  he'd 
call  again  this  evening  or  to-morrow  morning,  just  which 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  26 1 

'd  be  most  agreeable,  and  expected  I'd  budge  then,  sure, 
but  I  didn't  show  any  signs  of  it ;  and  I  told  him  rightly, 
I  guessed  one  time  would  be  about  as  agreeable  as  an- 
other ;  and  I  suppose  he  thought  he  wouldn't  show  mad 
before  such  common  bred  folks.  He  smiled  that 
window-glass  looking  smile  of  his,  and  says  ;  '  Ah, 
thank  you ;  now  I  won't  detain  you  any  longer,  Mrs. 
Keeler,'  and  out  he  went. 

"  I  suppose  he's  come  down  to  smooth  everything 
over,  and  have  it  hushed  up  with  Beck  and  her  folks. 
Well,  money'll  do  a  good  deal  for  a  man,  but  it  wouldn't 
stand  him  much  if  he  got  into  George  Giver's  hands. 
However,  teacher,''  concluded  Madeline,  in  a  sprightly 
tone ;  "  give  the  Devil  his  due.  It's  better'n  as  if  he'd 
run  off  and  never  showed  his  head  again ;  and  I  don't 
suppose  he'll  get  much  satisfaction  out  of  you,  if  you  do 
see  him,  teacher.  It's  better  to  trust  honest  folks  than 
rogues,  and  nobody  knows  that  better  than  the  rogues 
themselves." 

I  knew  that  this  last  clause  was  not  designed  as  a 
personal  thrust  by  Madeline,  yet  I  could  not  help  mus- 
ing a  little  over  it,  smilingly,  after  she  had  gone.  The 
fiction,  of  which  I  was  living  a  part,  in  Wallencamp, 
was  taking  on,  it  seemed  to  me,  a  tinge  even  of  the 
tragic  —  perplexities  were  deepening.  I  was  becoming, 
more  than  ever,  the  suffering  though  exalted  heroine  of 
a  romance. 

I  rose,  and  dressed  myself  before  the  glass,  I  remem- 
ber, with  particular  care.  I  did  not  know  why  I  should 
dread  or  avoid  seeing  the  fisherman  in  the  evening, 
since  the  part  I  had  to  sustain  in  the  interview  was  so 
distinctly  calm,  dispassionate,  and  spiritually  remote. 


262  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

At  the  same  time,  I  wished  that  my  cheeks  had  not 
grown  so  pale  and  my  eyes  so  dark-rimmed  and  hollow. 
They  bespoke  the  interesting  part  I  had  to  play  in  the 
world's  tragedy,  but  were  not,  otherwise,  so  becoming  as 
I  could  have  wished. 

Earlier,  the  fisherman  had  sent  me  books  from  Provi- 
dence. I  would  rather,  I  thought,  that  he  should  take 
them  back  again.  I  remembered  that  I  had  left  one  of 
them  in  my  desk  at  the  school-house,  and  put  on  my  hat 
to  go  after  it. 

"  Going  out  to  spend  the  evening,  teacher  ? "  said 
Madeline,  as  I  opened  the  door  of  the  Ark,  giving  me 
at  the  same  time  a  gay  and  knowing  look. 

"  No,"  I  said,  gravely  tolerant  of  the  little  woman's 
surveillance  ;  "  I'm  only  going  to  the  school-house  for  a 
book  that  I  want.  I  shall  be  back  in  a  few  moments." 

It  was  hardly  dusk  then. 

Aunt  Patty,  as  usual  after  school  on  Friday,  had 
swept  the  room  and  put  down  the  dark  and  dingy  paper 
curtains. 

I  opened  the  door  and  stood  an  instant  looking  into 
the  gloom  before  entering.  Then  I  saw  that  there  was 
some  one  sitting  in  my  chair —  a  man  with  his  head 
bent  forward  and  buried  in  his  arms,  which  were  folded 
on  the  desk. 

It  was  Mr.  Rollin,  and  before  I  had  time  to  retreat, 
he  lifted  his  head  and  saw  me  standing  at  the  door. 

I  had  expected  that  the  first  revelation  of  that  glance 
would  contain  something  of  grief,  wretchedness,  re- 
morse. The  fisherman's  countenance  were  a  shadow 
of  annoyance,  but  it  was  expressive,  above  all,  of  a 
childish  petulance  and  irritation. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  263 

"  Oh  !  "  he  exclaimed,  speaking  with  the  utmost  ab- 
ruptness, and  rising  from  the  chair  ;  "  if  you  had  only 
left  this  place  at  the  end  of  the  first  term,  it  would  have 
saved  the  whole  of  this  abominable  misadventure  !  " 

"  I  don't  think  I  understand  you,"  I  said,  freezing  now 
in  sober  earnest. 

"  Because  in  your  eyes  only,  it  is  a  misadventure,"  he 
continued  rapidly,  with  growing  excitement.  "You 
came  to  this  miserable  hole  — this  Wallencamp  —  re- 
solved to  view  everything  in  a  new  light  —  the  light  of 
unselfish  devotion  to  great  ends,  and  exalted  aspiration, 
and  ideal  perfection,  and  all  that.  Well,  how  has  the 
wretched,  giggling,  conniving  little  community  shown 
out  in  that  light  ?  I  suppose  there's  one  —  that  larking 
Cradlebow  —  who  has  stood  the  test  and  come  out 
creditably,  by  reason  of  an  uncommonly  artistic  shock  of 
hair  and  a  Raphaelite  countenance.  As  for  me,  taken 
in  the  ordinary  sense,  I'm  no  worse  than  a  thousand 
others,  but  I  say  that  it  was  a  decidedly  unfortunate  light 
to  put  me  in  !  It  was  a  decidedly  unfair  light !  " 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  judge  you  in  any  light,"  I  said, 
and  explaining  briefly  my  errand  to  the  school-house,  I 
expressed  regret  at  having  interrupted  the  fisherman's 
meditations,  and  turned  to  go. 

"  Miss  Hungerford  !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  a  gesture 
of  whimsical  force  and  impatience  ;  "  it's  my  last  chance 
for  an  explanation.  Don't,  for  God's  sake,  cut  it  short 
at  this  point.  You  might  know  —  you  might  know,  that 
I'm  not  a  bad  fellow  at  heart.  But  you  will  never  see 
the  best  side  of  me  —  there's  fa.te  in  it.  I  never  wanted 
to  seem  specially  contrite  but  I  must  set  myself  jumping 
like  a  jack-in-the  box  for  your  infernally  cold  amuse- 


264  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

ment !  I  had  an  explanation  at  my  tongue's  end.  D — n 
it !  I  don't  remember  a  word  of  it." 

"  I  don't  think  it  is  necessary,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  he  continued  in  a  deeply  aggrieved,  almost 
a  whining  tone  ;  "  nothing's  necessary  that  would  set  me 
out  in  a  little  better  shape  !  Anything  will  do  for  these 
grovelling  Wallencampers,  but  just  as  soon  as  it  comes 
to  me,  all  the  extenuating  circumstances  of  my  life  — 
that  I  was  left  so  early  orphaned,  sisterless,  brotherless, 
my  nearest  of  kin  a  wicked,  carousing  old  uncle  ;  taken 
to  see  the  world  here,  and  to  see  the  world  there ;  home- 
less, if  ever  one  was  homeless;  never  trained  to  any 
correct  way  of  thinking,  or  settled  manner  of  life,  but 
just  to  spend  my  money  and  aim  at  enjoying  myself  — 
they  all  amount  to  nothing  in  my  case. 

"  Well,  I  used  to  come  to  Wallencamp  just  for  that 
same  purpose  —  to  have  a  good  time :  it  was  such  a 
jolly  wild  place  to  let  the  Old  Nick  loose  in  ;  and  now  it 
seems  that's  to  be  taken  for  a  man's  natural  level,  and 
the  best  that  he's  capable  of  !  Then  I  met  you.  You 
would  voluntarily  give  up  ease  and  luxury,  for  a  time, 
for  the  sake  of  an  abstract  idea — whether  misguided 
or  not,  I  will  not  say,  the  fact  remains  the  same  —  and 
I  swear  it  was  a  new  revelation  to  me.  It  was  strange 
and  perverse,  and  it  was  deuced  taking  !  Then  I  tried  to 
get  you  to  include  me  among  the  objects  of  your  mission, 
to  accept  me  as  a  candidate  for  temporal  leniency  and 
final  salvation,  and  you  wouldn't.  It  is  only  the  happy, 
ragged,  unconscious  heathen  that  are  looked  out  for  in 
this  world  ;  the  real  ones  don't  get  any  sympathy." 

The  fisherman  paused. 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  give  you  the  first  lesson  in  the 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  26$ 

code  of  salvation,"  I  said — "that  the  fate  of  souls  is 
not  left  to  human  hands." 

"  Oh,  I've  heard  that  formula  somewhere  before ! " 
exclaimed  the  fisherman,  impatiently,  with  a  little  sneer 
in  his  laugh.  "  Why  don't  you  tell  me  that  God  will 
help  me  ?  Perhaps  you  will  even  remember  me  in  your 
prayers,  some  time." 

At  those  last  words  an  unbearable  pang  of  self-con- 
viction and  remorse  shot  through  my  heart.  I,  who  had 
not  felt  greatly  the  need  of  any  supernatural  aid,  but 
rather  that  I  was  able  to  manage  my  own  affairs  with 
becoming  discretion  —  of  what  saving  power  and  grace 
could  I  speak  to  one  who  was  weak  enough  to  fall,  and 
for  whom  there  was  no  help  in  himself  ?  In  the  dark 
school-room  I  involuntarily  lifted  my  hands  to  my  face. 
When  I  heard  the  fisherman's  voice  again,  he  had  come 
a  step  or  two  nearer  to  me  down  the  aisle. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  what  I  was  thinking  about  when  you 
came  in,"  he  said,  in  an  altered  tone.  "  Rather,  how  I 
was  allowing  my  imagination  to  run  away  with  itself,  for 
my  own  particular  delectation.  I  was  imagining,  when 
you  opened  the  door  and  stood  revealed  there  in  the 
light,  how  you  might  come  to  me,  indeed,  as  the  angel 
of  some  better  life  and  hope,  offering  me  a  forgiveness 
as  full  as  it  was  unmerited." 

"  It  is  not  I  who  have  to  forgive  you,"  I  repeated. 

"  It  is  you,  if  any  one,"  replied  the  fisherman,  quickly. 
"  I  tell  you,  you  feel  that  girl  Becky  Weir's  fault  ten 
times  more  deeply  than  she  feels  it  for  herself.  You 
should  never  have  come  to  this  place.  It  was  deucedly 
odd  and  entertaining,  but  it  was  a  step  in  the  wrong 
direction.  You  put  yourself  in  the  place  of  these  people 


266  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

and  translate  all  their  possible  moods  and  tenses  accord- 
ing to  your  own.  It's  a  mistake.  That  girl,  Becky, 
would  stare  in  perfect  bewilderment  if  she  could  know 
of  some  of  the  thoughts  and  emotions  you  doubtless 
attribute  to  her.  She  might  even  laugh  at  you  for  your 
pains." 

"  I  do  not  believe  you,"  I  said,  not  angrily  nor 
resentfully,  as  might  have  been  earlier  in  our  acquaint- 
ance, but  with  a  painful,  slow  positiveness.  "  Perhaps 
I  was  wrong  in  assuming  the  place  I  did  in  Wallencamp, 
but  it  was  not  in  the  way  you  think.  I  don't  know  —  I 
can't  see  the  way  myself,  clearly  —  always,  but  I  believe 
that  what  you  have  said  is  utterly  false  ! " 

"At  least,"  continued  the  fisherman,  in  the  old  gay, 
frivolous  tone,  which  I  heard  now  for  the  first  time 
during  this  conversation;  "  I  can  make  her  tenfold  and 
abundant  reparation  —  ah,  you  don't  know  —  I  say  you 
don't  understand  these  people.  It's  a  disagreeable  sub- 
ject; let  it  go!  But  I'm  very  rich,  you  know,"  with 
an  easy  laugh,  and  the  air  of  a  man  only  conscious,  at 
last,  of  his  good  worldly  fortune,  and  the  exquisite  fit  of 
his  clothes.  "  Oh,  I've  got  no  end  of  money.  After  all, 
that's  the  chief  thing  in  this  world.  If  a  fellow's  ordi- 
narily clever  and  good-natured,  with  a  good  reputation  in 
town,  what's  a  little  row  in  the  suburban  districts !  It's 
an  awfully  insignificant  affair,  anyway,  it  seems  to  me. 
We  may  as  well  talk  sense,  and  the  plainer  the  better. 
People  don't  employ  lenses  for  shortsightedness  in  that 
particular  —  common  sense,  I  mean.  You  walk  without 
seeing,  Miss  Hungerford,  and  you're  bound  to  get 
infernally  cheated,  in  some  shape.  Why  not  me,  I  say, 
as  well  as  another  ? " 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  267 

Still,  the  fisherman's  words  roused  no  bitterness  in 
me.  His  hardened  recklessness  of  speech  served  rather 
to  strengthen  me  in  the  part  I  had  to  play  of  the 
unapproachably  sublime. 

"  I  cannot  consider  that  question,"  I  said,  with  my 
hand  on  the  door. 

He  swept  my  face  with  a  keen  glance  that  had  lost 
none  of  its  derisive  quality. 

"  So  it's  true,  then !  "  he  said.  "  The  ultimatum  has 
been  reached,  at  last,  in  the  possessor  of  a  pretty  face 
and  a  broken  fiddle  !  and  dreams  for  the  restoration  of 
the  race  are  to  end  in  a  broken-down  hovel  by  the  sea, 
in  darning  the  Cradlebow's  socks,  and  dressing  the 
clams  for  dinner,  while  the  bucolic  George  Olver  and 
the  versatile  Harvey,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  awkward, 
moon-gazing  crew,  take  turns  in  sitting  on  the  door-step, 
and  dilating  on  the  weather  !  Ravishing  idyl  1  but  it 
lacks  substantiality.  It  lacks  seriousness." 

I  heard  that  mocking  laugh  again  without  emotion, 
except  it  might  be  for  a  faint,  far-off  echo  in  my  breast 
of  the  fisherman's  own  scorn.  Above  all,  I  was  wean-, 
and  willing  to  make  my  escape. 

"  We  cannot  help  each  other  by  standing  here  talk- 
ing," I  said,  and  added  a  "  good  bye." 

It  was  the  last  time,  probably,  that  I  should  see  the 
fisherman's  face  ;  but  he  refused  the  valediction  with  a 
toss  of  the  head. 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  he  said  ;  "  it  isn't  time  for  my  obsequies. 
I  shall  return  to  town  for  a  few  days  or  weeks  only ; 
this  detestable  place  has  always  thrown  a  spell  over  me. 
I  can't  rid  myself  of  it.  Like  the  natives  of  Wallencamp, 
I  always  drift  back  to  it  again." 


268 


CAPE   COD   FOLKS. 


It  was  growing  dark.  I  found  Madeline  waiting  for 
me  in  the  lane.  Somewhat  piqued  at  the  persistency  of 
the  little  woman's  ministrations,  I  informed  her  briefly, 
that  I  had  found  the  fisherman  in  the  school-house,  and 
had  been  conversing  with  him  there  ;  but  she  put  her 
hand  in  my  arm  with  an  air  of  unshaken  confidence. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  269 


CHAPTER   XVI. 
GEORGE  OLVER'S  LOVE  FOR  BECKY. 

'D  like  to  see  you  alone  a  few  minutes,  teacher, 
if  you  please." 

It  was  George  Olver  who  spoke,  in  his 
sturdy,  resolute  bass.  The  words  hardly  took  on  the 
form  of  a  suave  request :  they  were  uttered  in  too 
earnest,  grave,  and  intent  a  tone. 

I  had  dismissed  my  school  for  the  day.  The  roar  of 
the  young  lions  just  released  from  bondage  had  not 
died  away  when  George  Olver  entered  the  school-room, 
closed  the  door  behind  him,  and  stood  in  a  manly  and 
self-reliant  attitude,  his  hat  in  his  hand. 

"  No,  ma'am,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  some  gesture  of 
mine  ;  "  I'll  be  much  obleeged  if  you'll  set  down  in  the 
chair." 

"There's  times,  teacher,"  he  then  went  on,  gravely 
and  steadily  ;  "  when  ordinary  friends,  like  you  and  me, 
meetin'  each  other  in  the  road,  or  in  a  neighbor's  house, 
maybe,  we  say,  '  How  d'ye  do  ? '  or  '  It's  a  pleasant  day,' 
or  the  like  o'  that,  and  all  well  and  good.  It's  a  fair 
understanding  and  enough  said  'twixt  you  and  me  :  and 
then  ag'in,  there's  times  when  the  wind  blows  up  rough, 
as  ye  might  say,  and  oncommon  dark,  and  some  harm  a 
befallin'  of  us,  when  we  git  closter  together  and  more  a 


2;o  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

dependin'  on  each  other,  and  then  them  old  words  ain't 
o'  much  account  to  us,  but  to  speak  out  different  what 
need  be  without  fear  or  shame." 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  much  impressed  by  George  Giver's 
manner.  He  was  held  somewhat  in  awe  among  the 
Wallencampers,  and  regarded  generally  as  a  "  close- 
mouthed  "  fellow. 

"  I  hear,"  he  resumed  ;  "  that  Dave  Rollin  has  been 
down  this  way  ag'in.  They  say  it  was  lucky  for  him  I 
wasn't  to  home  that  day  ;  maybe  so.  Ef  he'd  a  turned 
up  suddenly  in  my  path  —  I  can't  say  —  I  might  'a'  trod 
on  him.  I  ''never  done  anythin'  like  that  for  the  fun 
on't,  I'd  rather  go  round  one  any  time  than  step  on't, 
but  if  I'd  a  come  on  him  so,  onexpected,  I  can't  say  for 
what  might  'a'  been  the  consequences.  Wall,  he  comes 
down  here,  and  he  goes  to  her  with  money  !  Her,  that 
ain't  used  to  all  the  devilish  ways  o'  the  world,  nor  as 
fine  clo's  as  some,  but  that's  got  a  lady's  heart  in  her, 
for  all  that ;  and  she  told  him  —  I  know  just  how  she 
said  it,  in  that  quiet  way  she's  had  along  lately  —  that 
it  was  the  last  thing  he  could  do  to  hurt  her  —  but  he'd 
made  a  mistake  if  he  thought  she  could  take  that. 

"  So,  then,  as  I've  heered,  he  went  to  her  father,  a 
tryin'  to  make  it  appear,  as  nigh  as  I  can  make  out, 
that  he'd  got  suthin'  in  the  shape  of  a  conscience  that 
he  wanted  to  whiten,  over  a  little  more  to  his  own  satis- 
faction afore  he  went  away. 

"  Wall,  Bede  and  his  daughter  used  to  be  called  about 
one  piece  for  temper,  though  I  don't  reckon  that  tem- 
per's lackin'  allays  'cause  it  don't  show.  There's  them 
as  jest  keeps  the  steam  down  a  workin'  the  whole 
machinery  patient  and  stiddy ;  but  Bede,  he's  allays  a 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  271 

histin'  the  cover,  and  lettin'  on't  out  in  one  general  bust, 
and  I  reckon  that  was  what  he  did  when  he  was  a 
talkin'  with  the  fisherman  ;  he  histed  up  the  cover  and 
let  off  a  good  deal  of  onnecessary  steam,  but  he  come 
to  the  right  point  in  the  end ;  that  the  fisherman  had 
made  a  mistake  thar',  too,  and  —  as  near  as  I  can 
make  out  —  this  Dave  Rollin  was  kind  o'  took  back  and 
disappointed.  He  hadn't  calkilated  that  the  folks  down 
here  had  any  sech  feelin's  as  his  sort  o'  folks. 

"Thar'  ain't  any  use  in  talkin'  about  him.  I  feel 
hard  thar',  I  confess,  but  that  can't  help  her  none,  now. 
What  I  want  is  to  help  her.  I  tell  ye,  teacher," — the 
strong  voice  trembled  slightly  — "  there's  been  times 
when  I've  felt  as  though  I've  been  a  sinkin',  as  ye  might 
say,  and  a  wantin'  to  call  out  for  help !  help !  like  any 
weak,  drowning  fool,  instead  o'  swimmin'  above  it  strong, 
and  helpin'  them  as  was  weaker  than  me. 

"  No  shame  for  me  to  say,  teacher,  I've  allays  had  it 
in  my  mind  that  Becky'd  marry  me.  It  grew  up  with 
me.  I  never  thought  o'  no  other  girl  but  her.  Ye  see 
she'd  always  knowed  me,  and  it  was  more  like  a  brother, 
she  said.  She  hadn't  thought  o'  that.  So,  I  says,  I'll 
bide  my  time  patient,  but  I  believed  she'd  turn  to  me. 

"  When  Dave  Rollin  began  to  hang  around  there,  I 
didn't  feel  exactly  kindly  towards  him,  I  don't  pretend. 
The  folks,  they  tried  to  set  me  on.  It  'ud  a  been 
mighty  easy  to  'a'  gone  on  !  I  guess  there  ain't  nobody 
as  knows  us  two  'ud  deny  I  could  handle  four  o'  such 
as  him,  but  a  man  has  got  to  say,  fa'r  play !  fa'r  play ! 
and  not  put  himself  in  other  folks'  light.  Thinks  I,  if 
his  intentions  are  all  squar'  and  honorable  —  and  I 
hadn't  no  reason,  then,  to  say  they  wa'n't  —  and  them 


2/2  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

two  take  a  fancy  to  each  other,  why,  it  ain't  no  more 
than  nateral ! 

"  She  was  handsome  enough  for  a  queen,  and  he  had 
different  manners  from  us  fellows  down  here,  and  pur- 
tier  ways  o'  talkin'  and  lookin'  at  a  girl,  as  though  if  she 
didn't  have  him,  it  was  goin'  to  knock  'im  straight,  and 
she'd  lived  with  such  different  folks,  it  made  it  vary 
interestin' ;  that  was  nateral.  Thinks  I,  a  man  in  my 
place  had  ought  to  have  sense  enough  to  back  out 
quiet. 

"  You  know  what  he  clone,  teacher.  He  took  the  best, 
and  when  he  got  tired  on't,  he  threw  it  away,"  —  the 
brawny  hand  at  George  Giver's  side  was  clinched  so  as 
to  appear  almost  colorless,  yet  there  was  little  discom- 
posure in  his  voice  —  "  but  cursin'  him  ain't  a  goin'  to 
help  us  now.  When  a  thing  that's  allays  been  precious 
to  us  has  once  fell,  we  can't  never  make  it  quite  like  it 
was  afore,  but  we  can  keep  care  on't  patient,  a  waitin' 
God  Almighty's  time  to  make  it  whole.  I  know  what 
folks  say.  I  know,  but  I  don't  keer.  She  ain't  no  less 
precious  to  me,  now,  than  she  was  afore,  only  it's  more 
for  her,  now,  maybe,  and  less  for  myself.  And  she  sees, 
now.  She  does  keer  for  me,  now.  Ay,  I  know  what 
they'll  say,  but  they  don't  know  that  girl  as  well  as  I  do, 
teacher.  They  ain't  nothin'  would  'a'  wrung  them  words 
from  her  ef  they  hadn't  'a'  be'n  true ;  no,  not  ef  it  had 
been  savin'  her  life  to  say  'em.  She  does  keer,  now. 
but  she  won't  never  take  me  now,  she  says,  because  it 
'ud  be  wrongin'  me ;  and  I  might  'a'  knowed  what  she'd 
'a'  said,  what  it  was  nateral  and  noble  for  her  to  say. 

"  But,"  continued  George  Olver,  with  a  flash  of  mag- 
nificent fire  in  his  eyes,  and  thrusting  his  arm  out 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.     •  273 

straight ;  "  what's  right  atween  me  and  my  God  needn't 
be  afeard  o'  no  man's  face  !  I  want  to  take  that  girl 
and  keer  for  her,  and  keep  her  from  meddlin'  tongues. 
Let  'em  say  what  they  choose  to  me  ;  they  must  be 
keerful  what  they  say  afore  her,  that's  all. 

"  I've  waited  a  good  while.  I  could  bide  my  time, 
but  not  now,  when  she's  heart  broke  and  sufferin',  and 
nobody  ter  put  out  a  hand  to  help  her.  There's  be'n  a 
look  on  her  face,  lately,  that  I  don't  like  to  see.  It's 
afore  my  eyes  all  the  time,  and  it  werries  me  night  and 
day  —  as  though  she  didn't  hold  herself  o'  no  account, 
and  might  make  away  wi'  herself. 

"  Teacher,  you've  got  a  woman's  heart,  and  you  can 
save  that  other  woman !  It's  a  task  that  they  needn't 
nobody  be  ashamed  on,  for  the  Lord  Jesus  himself  set  the 
example.  I  guess  she  thinks  you've  turned  agin  her, 
too,  but  I  knew  that  couldn't  be,  for  no  friend  'ud  leave 
another  when  they  was  perishin',  not  even  if  they  was 
more  to  fault  than  she  was ;  and  she  was  apt  to  mind 
ye  more  than  any  one.  I  thought  if  you'd  go  in  and 
speak  to  her  as  a  woman  could,  and  tell  her  she'd  got 
a  right  to  hope,  and  tell  her  her  friends  would  not 
forsake  her,  least  of  all  would  it  be  likely  God  would 
forsake  her,  and  tell  her " 

George  Olver  seemed  both  to  be  looking  at  me  and 
beyond  me  with  his  beautiful,  brave  eyes ;  "  Tell  her 
thar's  somebody  that  don't  find  any  cause  to  be  sorry 
for  havin'  loved  her,  but  knows  how  she's  been  werrited, 
and  suffers  along  with  her,  and  'ud  be  more  glad  and 
content  than  of  anythin'  else  in  his  heart  this  minute,  to 
protect  her  and  keer  for  her  as  it's  right  —  yes,  tell  her 
as  it's  right  that  she  should  let  him  do ;  and  if  she  asks 


274 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


from  whom  that  comes  "  —  George  Olver  smiled  brightly, 
with  that  far-seeing  look  still  in  his  eyes  —  "  why,  it's  no 
secret  from  whom  it  comes.  Will  you  go,  teacher  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  with  a  vague  sense  of  having  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  hitherto  unknown  world  ;  "  I  will  go." 

George  Olver  came  forward,  gave  my  hand  a  firm 
grasp,  and  then  turned  resolutely  and  walked  out. 

Left  to  myself  and  my  own  thoughts,  I  dreaded  more 
and  more  the  concession  there  would  seem  to  be  in  my 
seeking  Rebecca  now,  for  the  poor  girl  could  hardly  be 
expected,  I  thought,  to  appreciate  the  magnanimity  of 
such  an  act. 

I  deferred  going  to  see  her  until  evening,  and  even 
thought  of  writing  a  letter  instead  of  going  at  all,  signi- 
fying my  willingness  to  take  her  back  into  my  favor,  in 
a  limited  sort  of  way,  and  reinforcing  her  with  a  share 
of  that  counsel  and  advice  which  she  must  have  missed 
so  sadly  of  late ;  but  I  was  conscious  of  the  fact  that  I 
should  not  thus  be  keeping  my  promise  to  George 
Olver. 

After  supper,  the  singers  came  in  and  wailed  some 
peculiarly  touching  songs  about  rescuing  the  fallen  and 
the  erring.  As  Grandma  Keeler  was  preparing  to  go 
on  an  errand  of  mercy  down  the  lane,  I  joined  her,  and 
stopped  at  Bede  Weir's  door. 

Aunt  Patty  Rebecca's  mother,  appeared  in  answer  to 
my  knock.  Ker  glances  had  fallen  rather  reproachfully 
on  me,  of  late.  Seeing  me  now,  she  cast  down  her  eyes, 
a  steely  expression  gathering  about  her  mouth. 

"  You've  come  too  late,  teacher,"  said  she,  her  voice 
breaking  suddenly  into  a  sob  as  she  lifted  her  apron  to 
her  eyes. 


CAPE   COD  FOLK'S.  275 

In  that  instant  it  flashed  through  my  mind,  —  the  feai 
George  Olver  had  expressed  lest  Rebecca  should  make 
away  with  herself.  I  fancied  that  I  turned  terribly  pale. 

"  Come  in,  teacher ! "  Aunt  Patty  exclaimed,  with  a 
quick  motion  of  her  hand,  and  she  continued  rapidly  :  — 

"Becky  went  away  this  afternoon.  She's  gone  to 
Taunton.  She  didn't  tell  nobody  but  me.  If  you'd  V 
come  sooner  you  might  'a'  kep'  her,  teacher.  She's 
gone  to  Jane  Meredith's  that  works  thar,  in  the  shops 
and  Beck  used  to  know  her.  She  hires  a  room,  and 
Beck  she's  saved  a  little  money  cranberryin'.  She  says 
she's  a  goin'  to  stay  thar'  as  long  as  it  holds  out,  and 
'  maybe,'  she  says,  '  I  can  git  work  ; '  she  says  thar'  ain't 
nobody  here  cares  for  her  but  me.  '  And  it's  only  a 
trouble  to  you,  mother,'  she  says  ;  '  and  maybe,  I  shan't 
never  come  back  again.'  If  you  could  'a'  seen  how  she 
looked.  Oh,  my  God  !  "  As  the  poor  woman  held  her 
hands  to  her  face,  I  saw  the  tears  springing  out  between 
her  fingers.  "  There's  nobody  knows  how  I  feel  this 
night !  She  wa'n't  a  bad  girl,  my  Becky  wa'n't.  She 
was  deceived,  but  it'll  make  her  bad,  everybody 
turnin'  agin  her  so  —  and  that  Jane  Meredith,  she  was 
sech  a  wild  girl !  Oh,  I'm  afeard  !  I'm  afeard  !  " 

"  But  we'll  have  Becky  back  again,  Mrs.  Weir,"  I 
said,  intensely  relieved,  even  at  this  state  of  things  ; 
"  and,  more  than  that,  we  shall  see  her  very  happy  yet. 
I  will  write  to  her,  myself,  to-night." 

"  I  don't  know,"  —  Aunt  Patty  shook  her  head  sadly  — 
"  she  might  think  I'd  got  you  to  do  it.  I  seen  she  took 
it  to  heart,  you're  turnin'  agin  her  so,  and  I  didn't  be- 
lieve you'd  'a'  done  it  if  you'd  known  all.  I  wanted  to 
go  up  and  see  yer,  for  I  knew  you'd  soften,  but  no,  she 


2;6  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

wouldn't  let  me.  She  said  she'd  never  forgive  me  ef  I 
did.  No ;  she'd  think  I'd  been  a  puttin'  ye  up  to  it." 
Aunt  Patty  dried  her  tears,  helplessly. 

"  You  ought  to  have  come  to  me  !  "  I  exclaimed  with 
grave  emphasis  ;  "whether  she  wanted  you  to  or  not !  " 

"  Perhaps  I  had,  teacher,"  said  Aunt  Patty,  meekly ; 
"but  you  couldn't  'a'  gone  agin  her  ef  you'd  been  in  my 
place.  She  wasn't  vexed,  teacher,  but  she  was  awful 
set,  and  she  looked  so  wore  out !  I  couldn't  go  agin 
her." 

"  All  the  more  reason,"  I  continued,  fortifying  myself 
with  new  confidence ;  "  why  you  should  have  been  firm 
with  her.  She  is  not  fit  to  go  off  by  herself  in  that  way. 
She's  a  child  !  a  child  !  She  needs  some  one  to  tell  her 
what  to  do." 

"  I  know  that ;  that's  what  worries  me  !  "  cried  Aunt 
Patty,  bursting  into  tears ;  "  but  what  could  I  do, 
teacher  ?  what  could  I  do  ? " 

"  Well,  never  mind,"  I  said,  assuming  with  readiness 
the  attitude  of  the  consoler  ;  "  we  will  have  Becky  home 
again  in  a  very  short  time.  I  will  write  this  evening 
and  if  she  does  not  come,  why,  we  shall  have  to  go  after 
her,  that's  all !  " 

This  last  I  was  able  to  utter  almost  gayly,  looking  into 
Aunt  Patty's  face. 

The  woman's  poor,  worn  hand  placed  in  mine,  the 
look  of  confidence  upturned  to  me  in  her  tearful  eyes, 
her  readiness  to  forgive,  to  forget  any  resentment  which 
she  might  have  cherished  towards  me,  all  touched  me 
deeply  and  strengthened  me  in  a  sincere  determination 
to  win  Rebecca  back. 

"  She  made  me  promise  I  wouldn't  let  George  Olver 


<CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


277 


know  where  she  was,  teacher,"  said  Aunt  Patty,  breath- 
lessly, as  I  was  going  out  of  the  door.  "  She  had  her 
reasons ;  we'd  ought  to  respect  'em  some.  I  wouldn't 
be  deceiving  her  entirely." 

On  my  way  homeward,  I  reflected  how  altogether  bur- 
densome it  was  to  one-half  of  humanity  that  the  other 
half  was  not  better  calculated  to  take  care  of  itself,  and 
resolved  that  my  letter  to  Rebecca  should  be  at  once 
dignified,  imperative,  and  kind. 


278  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

TEACHER    HAS    THE    FEVER. DEATH    OF   LITTLE    BESSIE. 


HERE  were  oppressive  days  in  Wallencamp, 
when  no  fresh  winds  were  borne  to  us  from  the 
ocean.  The  sun  shone  hot  on  the  stunted 
cedars.  The  tides  crept  in  lazily.  All  one  weary  after- 
noon, in  the  hum  and  stir  of  the  dusty  school-room,  little 
Bessie  Sartell  —  Captain  Sartell's  youngest,  and  his 
darling — sat  stringing  lilac  blossoms  together  in  a  chain. 
She  was  such  a  cunning  edition  of  the  big  Captain.  She 
had  the  same  strong  Saxon  physique  in  miniature,  the 
same  clear  pink  and  white  complexion,  eyes  hardly  more 
limpidly  blue  than  his,  and  hair  that  was  sunniest  flax, 
like  the  ends  of  the  Captain's  beard.  And  how  patient 
the  chubby  little  fingers  were  at  their  task.  What  small, 
charmingly  despairing  sighs  escaped  the  child  when 
some  link  fell  out  in  the  chain  of  purple  flowers  !  I  was 
struck  with  her  air  of  weary,  patient  endeavor  —  so 
important  it  seemed  —  so  important  that  the  chain 
should  be  finished  before  school  was  out  And,  at  last, 
little  Bessie  lifted  it  to  wear  upon  her  neck,  and  it  broke 
and  fell  in  pieces  on  the  floor. 

Then  there  was  a  look  of  gentle  dismay  in  the  blue 
eyes,  a  tear  or  two,  and  Bessie  folded  her  arms  on  the 
desk,  her  head  sank  slowly  down  on  them,  and  she  fell 
asleep. 


I   WENT   DOWN   TO   BESSIE  AND    WOKE   HER  GENTLY."      Page  279 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


279 


She  was  stili  sleeping  when  I  dismissed  the  school. 
The  sound  of  the  others  going  out  did  not  wake  her ; 
the  Phenomenon,  disappearing  through  the  door,  pointed 
a  finger  at  her,  his  face  full  of  scornful  merriment  —  so 
incredible  was  it  to  him  that  any  one  should  sleep  when 
school  was  out. 

I  went  down  to  Bessie  and  woke  her  gently.  She 
looked  at  me,  at  first,  with  startled,  feverish  eyes,  as 
though  she  did  not  know  me,  and  screamed  in  pain  or 
terror.  I  noticed  then  that  the  color  of  her  cheeks  was 
unnaturally  bright.  I  put  my  hand  on  her  pulse.  It 
was  throbbing  violently.  I  was  thoroughly  frightened. 

"  Come,  Bess,"  I  said,  as  winningly  and  soothingly  as 
I  could  ;  "  come  home  with  teacher,  now.  Teacher  will 
lead  you,  all  the  way." 

For  answer,  the  child's  head  fell  heavily  on  one  side, 
I  tried  to  take  her  in  my  arms,  but  she  was  very  heavy. 
I  found  one  of  the  small  boys  lingering  outside  the 
school-house  and  sent  him  for  Bessie's  father. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  look  with  which  Captain  Sar- 
tell  lifted  his  baby  in  his  arms.  He  had  seven  other 
children  ;  he  was  a  poor  man,  a  Wallencamper,  but  one 
would  have  thought  him  a  king,  and  that  the  only  hope 
of  his  line  lay  treasured  in  the  mass  of  flaxen  curls 
pressed  against  his  shoulder,  as  he  carried  her  home. 

The  next  morning,  early,  Captain  Sartell  appeared  at 
the  Ark  with  a  blanched  face.  Bess  had  been  growing 
worse,  he  said.  They  feared  it  was  a  fever.  He  was 
going  to  West  Wallen  for  a  doctor.  "  She  thinks,"  he 
continued,  with  absolute  white  bewilderment  on  his  fea- 
tures, "  that  she's  in  school  all  the  while,  and  it's  a 
gettin'  late,  and  the  teacher  ain't  there,  and  so  she  keeps 


280  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

a  callin'  for  the  teacher  ;  and  I  wouldn't  ask  ye  to  go 
up,  teacher,  if  you  was  anyways  afeard,  but  it  'ud  break 
your  heart  to  hear  her." 

For  one  of  my  years,  I  knew  singularly  little,  either 
of  sickness  or  death,  so  I  was  the  more  readily  suscep- 
tible to  the  slight  disrespect  the  Captain  seemed  to  have 
cast  on  my  wisdom  and  fortitude. 

"Certainly  I  will  go  and  see  her,"  I  said;  "why 
should  I  be  afraid  ?  " 

"  I  was  only  thinkin'  it  was  fair  to  say,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain ;  "  she  was  took  so  sudden  and  so  violent  like,  it 
might  be  —  might  be  —  suthin'  —  suthin' kitchin',  per- 
haps. They  was  a  case  or  two  o'  scarlet  fever  up  to 
Wallen,  but  she  wasn't  exposed  no  way  that  we  know 
on.  She  wasn't  exposed." 

The  Captain,  regarding  me  intently,  repeated  the 
words,  thrusting  his  neck  out  with  a  pitiful  gulp,  his 
hand  on  the  latch.  Observing  him,  the  expression  of 
my  face  changed ;  he  groaned  as  he  went  out,  closing 
the  door  silently. 

My  first  impulse  then  was  to  pack  my  trunk  and  start 
for  home,  but  the  wailing  of  Mrs.  Philander,  and  of  the 
other  women  who  had  followed  the  Captain  in,  lament- 
ing one  with  another  in  an  agony  of  helpless  fear,  ap- 
pealed to  my  courage  and  presence  of  mind,  and  had 
a  strangely  sustaining  and  quieting  effect  upon  me.  I 
suggested  after  a  few  moments'  reflection,  that  very 
likely  the  case  was  not  so  bad  as  Captain  Sartell  sup- 
posed. I  determined  to  have  no  school  that  day,  and 
advised  the  women  what  they  should  do,  in  case  their 
children  had  been  already  exposed  to  a  contagious  dis- 
ease. Then  a  happy  thought  struck  me.  I  went  out 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  28 1 

in  the  other  part  of  the  Ark  to  seek  Grandma  Keeler.  I 
wondered  why  we  had  not  thought  of  her,  before. 

She  entered  the  room  where  the  women  sat.  Calm 
and  sunshine  was  Grandma  Keeler —  calm  and  sunshine 
breaking  through  a  storm. 

If  it  was  scarlet  fever,  she  knew  just  what  to  do. 
She  and  pa  had  it  years  ago,  and  they'd  lived  through 
it ;  but  she  didn't  believe  that  it  was  nothin'  half  so  bad, 
and  "  What  if  it  is,  you  poor  critturs,  you,"  said  Grandma, 
in  such  a  tone  as  she  would  have  used  to  soothe  a  fright- 
ened child  ;  "  every  time  there's  a  squall  must  we  go  to 
takin'  on  as  though  it  was  our  doin's  ?  The  Lord,  He 
makes  the  squalls,  and  he  don't  put  it  on  us  to  manage 
'em ;  but  up  thar'  in  His  fa'r  weather,  He  looks  down 
on  the  storms  that  we  know  not  whither,  but  are  only 
drivin'  of  us  landward  safe,  and  '  Keep  ye  still,'  He  says, 
'Jest  keep  ye  still  ! '  No  need  o'  strainin'  eyes,  but  fix 
'em  thar',  on  Him,  I've  seen  a  many  times  when  no 
words  but  them  would  do." 

The  tears  stood  in  Grandma's  eyes.  Beautiful  soul ! 
Whatever  storms  she  might  have  known  in  her  life's 
voyage,  she  only  seemed  to  lie  at  anchor  now,  in  a  sure 
haven  ;  and  all  the  while,  her  heart  was  going  out  in  the 
tenderest  sympathy  to  those  still  tossing  on  the  seas  and 
striving  to  make  perilous  passages,  even  to  those  watch- 
ing false  harbor  lights  in  the  distance.  She  had  had 
an  experience  wide  enough  for  all.  She  had  found 
where  it  was  still.  She  longed  to  draw  all  others  into 
that  stillness. 

Soon  Grandma  was  on  her  way  to  give  help  and  con- 
solation where  it  was  most  needed  —  in  Captain  Sartell's 
household.  She  did  not  come  back  until  near  mid-day. 


282  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

Mrs.  Philander's   children   were  kept  carefully  out  of 
the  room  when  she  entered. 

"  The  Lord  is  a  goin'  to  take  that  little  one  to  Him- 
self, teacher,"  she  said  to  me,  very  impressively. 

Captain  Sartell  had  not  yet  returned  with  the  doctor. 
Possibly  he  had  been  obliged  to  drive  to  the  next  town. 
Poor  Mrs.  Sartell  was  nearly  distracted.  Bessie's  fever 
had  gone  to  the  brain. 

"  We  couldn't  quiet  her,  no  way,"  Grandma  continued ; 
"  and  she's  a  growin'  weak,  but  when  them  spells  come 
on,  she's  ravin',  first  about  one  thing  and  then  another, 
but  mostly  it's  school,  school.  '  It's  a  gittin'  so  late  in 
school  and  the  teacher  not  there '  —  and  then  she 
screams  and  moans  so  !  Poor,  sufferin'  darlin' !  ye  can't 
ease  her  no  way." 

With  a  desperate  determination  not  to  yield  myself  to 
my  own  thoughts,  I  informed  Mrs.  Philander  that  I  was 
going  to  live  with  Grandma  a  while,  that  I  should  not 
go  through  that  part  of  the  Ark  where  she  and  the  chil- 
dren were,  and  she  must  keep  the  little  door  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairway  locked,  and  not  let  the  children  follow 
me ;  and  I  sprinkled  myself  with  camphor  and  went 
back  with  Grandma  to  Captain  Sartell's  house. 

Mrs.  Sartell  was  alone  in  the  room  with  Bess.  I 
expected  that  she  would  meet  me  with  an  almost  re- 
proachful look,  but  there  was  only  sorrow  in  her  face,  a 
sorrow  that  seemed  intensified  by  the  smile  she  lifted  to 
us  as  we  entered.  The  air  in  the  room  was  very  pure 
and  sweet.  The  bed  on  which  Bess  lay  was  as  white  as 
snow.  But  what  a  change  a  day  had  wrought  in  the 
little  face  pressed  against  the  pillow. 

"  Teacher's  come,"  said  Grandma  Keeler,  with  soft, 
pathetic  cheer,  bending  over  the  child. 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  283 

"  Would  she  care  now  ? "  I  thought.  "  Would  she 
know  me  ?  " 

Just  once  she  opened  her  eyes  wide,  smiled,  and  threw 
her  arms  towards  me  feebly.  I  would  have  taken  her 
then,  I  thought,  if  it  had  been  my  death. 

They  wrapped  a  shawl  around  her,  and  I  took  her  in 
my  arms,  rocked  her  gently  and  sang  to  her,  very  softly, 
the  songs  she  loved  best.  She  moved  a  little  restlessly, 
and  then  lay  very  still  with  her  head  on  my  breast. 

So  I  rocked  and  sang  to  Bess,  and  the  two  women 
moved  noiselessly  about  the  room  until  Grandma  Keeler 
came  and  looked  down  very  intently  into  the  little  one's 
face. 

"  She's  asleep,"  I  murmured,  placing  a  finger  on  my 
lips. 

"  Yes,  she's  asleep,"  said  Grandma,  in  a  trembling 
voice,  solemnly.  "  Sweet,  purty  little  one,"  she  went  on, 
with  tears  running  down  her  cheeks,  and  she  turned  to 
the  mother  —  "  Thank  God,  you  !  "  she  exclaimed,  with 
sudden  strength  and  firmness  in  her  voice,  that  was  yet 
thrilled  with  emotion  ;  "  from  sorrowin'  and  from  pain 
forevermore,  the  Lord  has  took  His  lamb !  " 

Ay,  life's  chain  of  dewy  morning  flowers  was  broken  ! 
The  baby  fingers  had  dropped  those  purple  fragments 
without  grief,  now,  or  dismay  —  only  the  peace  of  some 
sweet  unfolding  mystery  over  the  veiled  blue  eyes  ! 

Still,  she  seemed  to  me  asleep  —  only  asleep.  I  felt 
no  shrinking  from  the  dead  child  in  my  arms.  When 
they  took  her  away  from  me  and  laid  her  on  the  bed,  J 
looked  at  her  tranquil  face,  and  the  mother's  passionate 
grief  seemed  out  of  place.  Why  should  one  wish  to 
wake  another  from  such  repose  ?  I  could  not  compre- 


284  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

hend  the  mother's  aching  sense  of  loss.  But  later, 
when  we  heard  the  sound  of  wheels  and  saw  Captain 
Sartell  and  the  doctor  driving  very  fast  up  the  lane,  I 
went  down  the  stairs  and  passed  out  before  them.  I 
could  not  bear  to  watch  the  strong  man's  face  when  he 
should  find  his  baby  dead. 

Little  Bess  was  buried  under  the  lilac  blossoms.  The 
fever  which  had  so  soon  smitten  her  down  was  not 
properly  a  contagious  one.  I  went  on  with  my  school 
again,  missing  the  sweet  face  of  the  dead  child  more 
and  more  each  succeeding  day. 

Not  one  of  the  children  with  whom  she  had  played 
was  taken  sick,  but  it  was  scarcely  two  \\eeks  after  her 
death  that  I  was  taken  sick  as  she  had  been.  In  the 
interval  George  Olver  had  come  to  me  and  I  had  writ- 
ten to  Rebecca,  but  Rebecca  had  not  come  back  to  Wal- 
lencamp  nor  answered  my  letter.  I  was  more  anxious 
and  troubled  about  her  than  I  dared  confess  to  any  one. 
Then  suddenly  I  ceased  to  care  for  any  of  those  things. 
Of  my  last  afternoon  in  school  I  could  recall  very  little 
afterwards,  except  that  the  clock  en  the  shelf  back  cf 
me  seemed  to  be  ticking  in  my  brain,  and  the  voices  in 
the  room  sounded  indistinct.  My  own  vcice  sounded 
to  me  like  that  of  some  one  else  speaking  from  a  long 
way  off. 

And  at  evening,  in  the  Ark,  I  put  my  little  room  in 
perfect  order,  my  head  growing  heavy  with  pain.  I  felt 
that  I  must  finish  this  task  before  I  lay  down,  and  there 
was  another  intention  to  which  I  clung  with  a  painful 
pertinacity  of  mind. 

I  sat  down  at  my  table  and  wrote  half  a  dozen  or 
more  brief  letters  home.  These  were  filled  with  irrele 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  285 

vant  anecdotes  pertaining  to  my  experience  among  the 
Wallencampers,  a  few  desultory  descriptions  of  character 
and  scenery,  with  a  philosophical  digression  or  two. 

To  one  not  intimately  acquainted  with  the  epistolary 
products  of  my  pen,  these  letters  would  have  undoubt- 
edly suggested  the  workings  of  a  crazed  and  feverish 
brain,  but  they  were  not  calculated  to  arouse  any  partic- 
ular alarm  in  the  minds  of  my  friends  at  home,  unless, 
indeed,  it  was  by  reason  of  the  unusual  care  and  pains- 
taking evinced  in  their  chirography  and  the  punctilious 
manner  in  which  they  were  dated.  The  first  one  I 
dated  for  the  evening  on  which  I  was  writing.  The 
next  for  a  time  several  days  in  advance  of  that,  and  so 
on,  performing  this  strange  act  with  utter  indifference 
to  the  presumption  of  it. 

When  it  was  finished,  I  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
what  next  to  do.  Grandma  Keeler  told  me  afterwards, 
that  I  went  to  the  head  of  the  stairs  and  called  to  her, 
that  she  came  up,  and  I  told  her  very  gravely  that  I  was 
going  to  be  sick,  but  I  knew  I  was  not  going  to  die.  and 
adjured  her  with  a  look  in  my  eyes  which  she  said,  "  I 
couldn't  go  ag'inst,  teacher,  for  it  was  more  convincin' 
than  health,"  not  to  write  to  my  friends  of  my  sickness, 
and  instructed  her  how  to  send  the  letters  which  I  had 
sealed,  stamped,  directed,  and  methodically  arranged 
on  the  table,  in  their  proper  order  to  the  post. 

For  the  rest,  all  through  the  pain  and  impotence  and 
vague  mental  wanderings  of  the  days  that  followed,  I 
had  a  restful,  comforting  consciousness  that  a  kind,  lov* 
ing  face,  like  the  lamp  of  my  salvation,  was  hanging 
ever  over  me  —  always  it  was  Grandma  Keeler's  face, 
though  it  seemed  to  have  grown  strangely  young  and 


286  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

fair,  and  the  eyes  that  followed  me  with  such  a  loving, 
tireless,  wistful  expression  in  them  were  like  other  eyes 
that  I  had  known,  and  the  watcher's  voice  was  clear 
and  musical,  with  a  youthful  repression  in  it.  Still, 
somehow,  it  was  Grandma's  face,  her  eyes,  her  voice  — 
and  when  at  last,  I  woke  one  morning  very  weak,  but 
able  to  recognize  clearly  all  the  familiar  objects  in  the 
room,  it  was  Grandma  Keeler  indeed,  who  sat  by  my 
bed,  beaming  gloriously  upon  me. 

"  Is  it  most  school  time,  Grandma  ? "  I  inquired, 
feebly,  slowly  concentrating  my  gaze  on  her  face. 

"  Oh,  laws,  no  !  "  said  Grandma,  with  cheerful  empha- 
sis, and  then  continued  talking  in  her  quiet  monotone. 
I  hardly  heard  what  she  said.  I  was  painfully  endeav- 
oring to  pick  up  the  lost  thread  of  my  consciousness 
where  I  had  left  it  on  that  night  when  I  put  my  room 
in  order  and  went  so  wearily  to  bed.  At  last  I  inquired, 
still  vaguely,  "  How  long  ?  " 

Grandma  understood.     She  smiled  reassuringly. 

"  Only  a  little  while,  teacher,"  she  said.  "  You've 
only  been  sick  a  little  while  —  a  few  days,  maybe,"  and 
she  immediately  proffered  me  some  broth  which  was  a 
triumph  of  the  good  soul's  art,  and  seemed  to  partake 
of  her  own  comfortable  and  sustaining  nature.  I  lay 
back  on  the  pillows,  contented  to  be  very  still  for  a 
little  while. 

When  I  next  looked  up  and  recognized  that  familiar 
figure  sitting  by  the  bed,  I  said,  "Has  Becky  come 
back?" 

"  Yis,  Becky's  come  back  !  "  said  Grandma,  in  a  tone 
which  seemed  to  imply,  in  the  very  best  faith,  thai 
during  my  illness  the  world  had  been  running  on  ex- 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  287 

cellently  well.  "  You  take  some  more  broth  now,  teach- 
er, and  keep  r'al  slow-minded  and  easy,  and  hev'  a 
good  night's  rest,  and  to-morrer  I'll  tell  ye  all  about 
it!" 

But  I  persisted  ;  so  Grandma  continued  gently  :  — 
"  Wall,  it  wa'n't  much  to  tell,  only  the  doctor  said  ye 
wasn't  to  be  talked  to  much,  nor  worked  up;  but  I 
reckon  a  little  pleasant  news  ain't  a  gonter  hurt  nobody. 
Ye  see,  when  you  was  took  sick,  George  Olver,  he  got 
a  hold  of  where  Becky  was;  he  had  a  mistrustin'  of  it, 
somehow  —  and  he  went  and  told  her,  and  it  brought 
her,  hearin'  you  was  dangerous,  and  she  calculated  she 
might  be  o'  use  to  ye  now,  for  some,  they  fcsich  friends ! " 
said  Grandma,  making  this  observation  with  the  most 
guileless  enthusiasm.  "  And  Becky,  she  wa'n't  much 
brought  up,  and  used  to  be  as  wild  and  harum-scarum  as 
any  of  'em  ;  but  I  allus  said  that  there  was  a  good  deal  to 
Becky,  after  all.  Wall,  George  Olver,  he  rer^nized 
where  she  was  and  he  went  down  thar'  and  found  her, 
and  they  wa'n't  anybody  ventured  to  say  a  word,  and 
what  need  ?  for  everybody  respec's  George  Olver, 
knowin'  he's  uncommon  ser'ous  and  high-minded  ;  and 
the  very  same  hour  they  came  home,  Becky,  she  come 
up  here,  and  she  turned  me  right  out  of  the  room,  as  ye 
might  say.  '  It's  my  place,  Grandma,'  says  she,  *  and 
I'm  better  able  than  you.  I  understand.  It's  my  place.' 
And  she  wa'n't  vary  strong,  but  she  wouldn't  give  up  to 
nobody,  and  only  run  home  a  little  while  between  spells 
to  rest,  and  watched  and  tended  ye  as  faithful  as  though 
she  was  keepin'  count  of  every  breath ;  and  when  the 
fever  turned  a  Monday  night,  and  you  fell  off  into  a 
kind  of  a  nateral  sleep,  the  doctor,  he  says  to  her,  what 


288  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

it  ain't  a  very  common  thing  for  a  doctor  to  say  :  '  It's 
you  saved  her  life  ! '  he  says.  '  She  was  vary  sick.' 
And  he  shook  his  head  the  way  they  do.  '  You've  tend- 
ed vary  faithful,'  he  says  ;  and  Becky,  she  hardly  spoke, 
but  I  seen  when  she  looked  up  that  her  eyes  was  a 
shinin',  and  that  happy  look  that  she's  had  somehow, 
sence  she  came  back  —  I  can't  tell  ye  exactly,  teacher, 
but  it's  most  like  as  ef  somebody  should  have  a  bad 
dream,  and  be  wakin'  up  kinder  surprised  and  thankful 
—  but  when  the  doctor  said  them  words,  I'll  never  for- 
get how  her  eyes  went  a  shinin',  and  she  says  to  me, 
'  I'm  goin'  home  now,  and  never  you  tell  her,  when  she 
wakes  up,  for  she  thought  it  was  you  watchin'  with  her 
all  the  time,  and  kep'  a  callin  "  Grandma  !  Grandma  !  " 
says  she ;  '  and  don't  you  tell  her !  don't  you  ;  for  it 
would  seem  as  though  I  was  obligin'  her,  and  if  she  for- 
gives me  and  is  friendly  I  don't  want  it  to  be  for  that.' 
And  I  didn't  say  as  I  should  or  shouldn't  tell,"  said 
Grandma,  smilingly  unconscious  of  the  two  large  tears 
that  were  stealing  down  her  cheeks  ;  "  but  I  knowed 
pretty  well  what  I  had  on  my  mind  !  " 

Grandma  ceased  speaking,  and  began  to  busy  herself 
about  the  room,  humming  softly  her  favorite  refrain  :  — 

"  The  Light  of  the  World  is  Jesus." 

I  lay  very  still,  thinking  — 

"  Once  I  was  blind  but  now  I  can  see  I " 

That  low,  glad,  tremulous  murmur  brought  no  peace  to 
my  troubled  heart. 

When  Grandma  Keeler  looked  at  me  again,  I  fancied 
she  met  a  helpless,  appealing,  almost  an  aggrieved  ex- 
pression in  my  eyes. 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  289 

"  I  want  to  see  her,"  I  said.  "  I  want  to  see  Becky, 
of  course." 

"  Yis,  yis,"  said  Grandma,  "  to-morrer.  You'd  want 
to  talk,  and  you've  had  enough  for  one  day.  I'll  tell  her, 
and  she'll  understand." 

"  But  I  want  to  see  her  now,"  I  persisted. 

"  They's  some  folks  just  come  in  to  inquire,"  con- 
tinued Grandma,  giving  an  easeful  touch  to  the  pillows. 
•'  They's  been  a  good  many  in  to  inquire.  May  be, 
she's  amongst  'em.  I'll  go  down  and  see." 

Soon  I  heard  the  old,  girlish,  familiar  step  on  the 
stairs.  Rebecca  hesitated,  standing  an  instant  on  the 
threshold.  In  spite  of  the  new  and  loftier  soul  looking 
out  of  her  eyes,  in  spite  of  the  new  and  womanly  dignity 
which  she  bore  so  reposefully,  she  read  my  face  with 
that  quick,  intuitive  glance  I  had  learned  to  know  so 
well.  .  . 

Then  coming  towards  me,  she  put  her  arm  gently 
around  my  neck,  kissed  me,  understanding  all,  hushing 
all,  forgiving  all ;  and  smiling  a  tender  prohibition  in 
her  eyes,  put  her  finger  on  my  lips. 

Sobbing  inwardly,  I  accepted  this  divine  retaliation 
in  silence,  and  rested  a  while  in  that  loving,  warm 
embrace. 


290  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

LUTE    CRADLEBOW   GIVES    THE   TEACHER   A     NEW   CHAIR. 

NE  morning,  early  in  my  convalescence,  I  was 
startled  by  a  mighty  rumbling  and  scraping 
sound  on  the  narrow  stairway,  as  of  some 
unwieldy  object  pushed  steadily  upward.  The  summit 
reached,  I  heard  the  retreat  of  manly  feet,  and  this 
leviathan  presented  itself  with  Grandma  Keeler  as  an 
animating  force,  breathless  and  smiling,  in  the  rear. 

"  He  didn't  have  time  to  paint  it,  teacher,"  she  began 
joyfully  ;  "  but  it'll  be  jest  as  comf'table  to  set  in.  He's 
been  explainin'  of  it  to  me  —  Lute  has  —  ye  see,  it's  a 
cheer.  He  made  it  for  ye,  himself.  And  all  you've 
got  to  do  is  to  turn  this  'ere  crank,  here  —  "  Grandma's 
countenance  was  radiant  with  wonder  and  approval  — 
"  and  up  it'll  go  — so  —  as  high  as  ye  want  it !  and  this 
'ere  can  be  shoved  in  and  out  for  ye  to  put  yer  feet  on, 
and  this  'ere  back  can  be  let  anyways  ye  want  it.  He 
seen  a  picture  o'  one  in  a  paper,  once,  and  he  went  and 
made  this  by  his  own  eye,  and  all  the  hinges  and  cranks, 
and  everythin'  as  slick  as  a  pin  !  He  didn't  say  anythin'," 
Grandma  continued,  in  a  slightly  lowered,  insinuating 
tone  of  voice ;  "  about  likin'  to  come  up  and  see  ye, 
when  ye  was  able  to  set  up,  and  you  know,  teacher,  as 
I  don't  believe  in  meddlin'  in  young  folks'  affairs ;  but 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  29 1 

it  appeared  to  me,  havin'  had  so  much  exper'ence  with 
the  men  folks  as  I  have,  that  may  be  he  was  kind  o' 
hangin'  around  waitin'  for  an  invitation  —  for  ye  see, 
they're  goin'  to  sail  now  in  a  vary  few  days." 

So,  a  little  later,  I  sat  up  in  my  new  chair  and  received 
the  Cradlebow,  in  a  loose,  trailing  gown  of  rich  material, 
daintily  embroidered.  In  the  midst  of  my  narrow  and 
humble  surroundings  I  had  an  exiled-princess  sort  of 
consciousness,  and  recognized  with  a  new  pleasure  the 
Cradlebow's  lordly  face  and  bearing,  as  he  stooped  on 
entering  the  little  red  door. 

Living  in  a  reverie,  still,  —  a  fancy,  a  day-dream, 
strangely  vivid  and  life-like,  but  not  real,  —  not  real,  I 
was  so  far  softened  by  my  illness  that,  with  the  delicious 
sense  of  returning  health  and  strength,  I  was  content, 
for  a  time,  to  live  simply  in  the  present,  to  dismiss  the 
stern  warden,  Duty,  from  my  thoughts,  and  that  ever- 
grave  necessity  for  maintaining  a  mental  and  moral 
superiority  which  had  so  oppressed  me. 

"  It  had  been  weary  work  living  on  the  heights,  and 
what  had  it  all  amounted  to  ? "  I  asked  myself,  with  a 
recklessness  too  tranquil,  now,  to  be  converted  into 
bitterness.  "It  was  so  much  easier  and  safer,  lower 
down."  But  while  I  doubted  and  almost  gave  up  the 
struggle,  the  Cradlebow  aspired  ever  to  greater  faith 
and  hope  in  life,  and  enthusiasm  for  life's  work. 

'And  with  all  this,  it  was  evident  that  there  had  been 
with  him  an  inward  struggle  and  preparation,  a  silent 
conquering  of  self.  With  a  vain  discontent  for  my  own 
failure,  I  marvelled  at  the  glory  which  had  crowned  his 
humble  efforts.  "This,  too,"  I  thought,  "is  a  sort  of 
heroism  :  "  and  my  spirit  of  condescension  towards  ,the 
youth  took  on  something  new,  like  reverence. 


292  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

It  was  even  with  pride  that  I  reflected,  "  Here  is  a 
strength  I  may  rely  upon  by  and  by  ;  "  and  I  was  proud 
that  my  lover's  kiss  was  so  pure  upon  my  lips,  his  breath 
on  my  cheek  —  ah,  foolish  sleeping  heart !  It  was  well 
that  the  dream  should  grow  passionate,  even  intense, 
for  the  awakening  was  near. 

In  the  bewildered  and  feverish  condition  of  mind  in 
which  I  had  last  left  the  Wallencamp  school-house,  I 
had  been  consciously  impressed,  at  least,  with  the  idea 
that  I  should  probably  never  enter  those  familiar  walls 
again,  never  again  as  the  teacher.  And  now,  I  had  no 
intention  of  resuming  my  labors  there. 

But  I  did  not  wish  to  flaunt  my  boasted  independence 
before  the  family  circle  at  Newtown,  until  my  eyes  should 
have  assumed  a  little  more  nearly  their  usual  propor- 
tions, and  my  manner  of  going  up  and  down  stairs 
should  have  become  less  strikingly  feeble. 

I  decided  to  remain  in  Wallencamp  a  few  days  to 
recuperate.  I  was  not  impatient  nor  especially  chagrined 
on  account  of  this  necessity.  Secretly  willing  to  await 
the  departure  of  the  Cradlebow's  ship,  to  have  a  brief 
season  of  rest  from  all  care  and  responsibility  among 
the  scenes  of  my  past  labors  —  a  little  breathing  space 
in  which  to  study  these  people  quietly,  to  exchange 
unhurried  kindly  words  with  them  before  I  should  go 
away  from  them  forever  —  I  was  glad  to  have  it  so. 

Such  welcomings  and  congratulations  as  I  received 
from  the  Wallencampers  when  I  was  able  to  get  down 
the  stairs  once  more  !  I  felt  very  happy,  almost  humble, 
sitting  where  the  sunlight  poured  in  at  the  open  door 
of  Grandma's  living-room. 

That  picture  is  still  before  my  mind  :  the  bare,  shining 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


293 


floor,  the  unpainted  table,  the  chimney-shelf,  and  a 
clock,  the  successful  working  of  whose  machinery 
demanded  a  crazily  tilted  attitude  ;  a  Bible  on  the 
shelf,  too,  and  Grandma's  spectacles  lying  askew. 
Then,  a  commodious  lounge  of  exceedingly  simple 
construction  set  up  straight  against  the  wall  and  extend- 
ing the  whole  length  of  the  room.  The  original  frame- 
work of  this  lounge,  by  the  way,  disclosed  itself  in  many 
bold  and  striking  instances,  under  a  unique  method  of 
upholstery.  It  was  stuffed  sectionally.  There  was  the 
"  old  paper  corner,"  within  whose  rustling  precincts 
Lovell  was  reputed  once  to  have  endured  agonies, 
during  a  religious  meeting  held  at  the  Ark.  There  was 
the  "sawdust"  section,  substantial,  but  by  no  means 
billowy  to  the  touch ;  and  the  "  dried  yarb  "  section,  of 
a  nature  similar  to  the  sawdust ;  and,  omitting  the  "  old 
clothes  section"  with  its  insidious  buttons,  and  the 
"  corn-cob  "  section,  and  the  "  cotton-wood  bark " 
section,  there  was  the  "  feather  corner,"  at  the  other 
end,  generally  conceded  to  be  luxurious,  but  silently 
avoided,  as  having  given,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  a 
sharp  suggestion  of  quills.  Over  the  whole,  depressions 
and  excrescences,  was  stretched  a  faded  chintz  cover. 
But  woe  to  the  luckless  wight  who  thought  to  find  repose 
by  throwing  himself  carelessly  down  on  this  hitherto 
untried  structure  !  It  was  reserved  only  to  the  knowing 
few  to  find  a  comfortable  seat  on  the  lounge. 

The  cat,  without  having  subjected  herself  to  those 
trials  which  some  of  us  endured,  had  discovered,  with 
true  feline  instinct,  wherein  the  deepest  rest  lay,  and  had 
established  herself  on  a  suspended  bridge  of  chintz  be- 
tween two  overhanging  systems. 


294 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


There  were  a  few  chairs  in  the  room  besides,  but  the 
doorsteps  were  wide.  Grandpa  sat  always  in  the  south 
door,  Grandma  on  the  steps  looking  towards  the  lane, 
and  it  was  at  this  latter  inviting  spot  that  the  neighbors, 
the  "  passers  by,"  paused  most  frequently  and  disposed 
themselves,  with  a  grateful  air. 

I  listened  to  their  talk,  while  the  birds  struggled  to 
make  noisy  interruptions  and  cast  their  fleeting  shadows 
in  the  sunlight  on  the  floor,  and  the  peach-blossoms 
outside  were  falling  noiselessly. 

Grandma  Keeler  had  been  telling  me  in  a  happy, 
droning  voice,  though  gravely  enough,  of  the "  awak 
enin'  "  that  was  going  on  in  Wallencamp  —  how  "  a  good 
many  o'  the  young  folks  was  impressed,"  and  "  Cap'n  Sar- 
tell  had  been  seekin',  ever  since  little  Bessie  died,  and 
some  that  had  seemed  to  be  forgitful  and  backslidin'  had 
come  forward  and  told  where  they  stood,  until  it  seemed 
as  though  the  Lord  was  a  sendin'  a  blessin'  down,  jest  as 
soft  and  beautiful  as  them  blossoms ;  "  and  Grandma's 
eyes  wandered  towards  the  peach-tree  with  a  tearful 
fervor  in  them. 

Aunt  Patty  was  a  temporary  occupant  of  the  steps. 
Her  anxious,  care-lined  face  was  turned  indoors,  away 
from  the  light  and  the  falling  blossoms.  There  was  an 
anxious,  restless  ring  in  her  voice,  too. 

"  I'm  glad  to  hev  such  a  time,  I'm  sure,"  said  she. 
"  We  need  it  bad  enough,  any  time,  Lord  knows  !  —  but 
it  seems  a  queer  season  o'  the  year  for't.  When  we've 
had  'em  before  it's  generally  been  along  in  the  winter. 
I  never  heered  of  an  awakenin'  before  right  in  the  midst 
o'  tater-buggin'." 

Aunt  Patty  was  not  intentionally  irreverent.     Life, 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  295 

with  her,  had  been  so  narrow  and  hard  pressed,  always 
a  painful  reckoning  of  times  and  seasons. 

The  allusion  to  "  tater-buggin'  "  gave  Grandpa  an 
opportunity  of  a  sort  of  which  he  had  not  been  slow  to 
avail  himself  lately  —  to  engage  in  a  little  old-time, 
secular  conversation.  His  voice,  however,  as  it  sounded 
from  the  south  doorway,  was  impressive  enough  for  any 
subject. 

"  Grists  on  'em,  this  year  !  "  he  said. 

"  Heaps  !  "  Aunt  Patty  responded,  readily.  "  I  don't 
see  how  ever  the  children  could  be  speered  to  go  to 
school  now,  anyway.  Randal  had  all  eight  o'  hisn  out 
yesterday,  with  a  four-quart  pail  apiece,  and  him  and 
Lucindy  pickin'  into  the  half-bushel  besides ;  and  Rod- 
ney told  Bede,  for  the  livin'  truth,  he'd  seen  a  lantern 
movin'  around  last  night  right  in  the  dead  o'  night,  and 
he  looked  out  and  it  was  the  Dean  and  Abbie  Ann  out 
tater-buggin',  and  everybody  knows  they  wasn't  out  in 
the  daytime,  it  was  so  dreadful  hot.  I'm  sure  we  never 
had  such  queer  weather  afore.  But  them  bugs  are  the 
hardest  critturs  to  kill.  It's  almost  impossible  to  dis- 
pose on  'em ;  and  it  does  seem  enough,  what  with 
ploughin'  and  plantin'  and  harrowin'  and  hoein'  to  git  a 
few  potatoes,  and  like  enough,  wet  weather  to  rot  'em, 
without  havin'  to  fight  over  'em,  for  the  last  chance, 
with  a  whole  army  of  varmint,  I'm  sure  this  'ere  way 
o'  gittin'  a  livin',  as  old  Grandther  Skewer  used  to  say, 
'  It  costs  more  than  it's  wuth.'  " 

Led  by  the  screams  of  the  little  Keelers  in  Madeline's 
apartment,  Grandma  had  left  the  room  for  a  moment, 
and  Grandpa  cleared  his  throat  and  began,  hopefully  :  — 

"Talkin'  about  tater-bugs,"  he  said,  and  he  glanced 


296  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

at  me  with  a  preliminary  gleam  in  his  eye ;  "  Bachelder 
Lot  was  tellin'  me  the  other  mornin,  —  he  said  he  was 
eddicatin'  a  couple  on  'em.  He  said  thar'  wa'n't  no 
other  way  to  get  rid  on  'em,  but  to  appeal  to  their  moral 
natur',  and  he  said  when  he'd  got  'em  eddicated  up  to 
the  highest  p'int  o'  morality,  he  was  a  goin'  to  send  'em 
out  as  missionaries  ter  convart  the  rest.  Bachelder 
said  he'd  got  'em  fur  enough  along,  now,  so't  they'd 
pass  examination  along  o'  average  folks  that  wa'n't 
admitted  church  members " 

"  Bijonah  Keeler !  " 

Grandma,  unexpectedly  returning,  had  caught  the 
last  word  only  of  Grandpa's  discourse,  but  taking  this 
in  connection  with  the  bright  and  mirthful  expression 
of  his  countenance,  she  judged  that  his  sentiments  had 
been  of  an  unusually  reprehensible  nature. 

"  Wall,  wall,  ma,"  said  Grandpa,  with  an  evident 
notion  of  continuing  his  narration  ;  "  what  now,  ma  ?  " 

"  I  hope,  pa,"  said  Grandma,  giving  one  the  impres- 
sion that  she  felt  she  couldn't  put  the  case  too  strongly  ; 
"  that  you  are  as  innocent  o'  what  you've  be'n  a  sayin' 
as  the  babe  unborn,  and  to  your  credit,  pa,  I  believe 
you  be ! " 

"  Wall,  wall,  ma,"  said  Grandpa,  now  mentally  lost 
and  bewildered ;  "  I  guess  I  know  what  I'm  talkin' 
about ! " 

"  And  if  you  do,  pa,"  said  Grandma,  with  a  solemnity 
that  was  unutterably  conclusive ;  "you  know  more  than 
I  do  ! " 

Then,  while  the  women  talked,  Grandpa,  sitting  alone 
in  the  south  door,  sighed  and  whittled,  and  abstractedly 
scanned  the  horizon.  Once,  he  made  a  singularly  bold 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


297 


attempt  to  entice  Aunt  Patty  again  into  the  channels  of 
profane  conversation,  by  an  introductory  speculation  as 
to  the  prospect  of  the  bean  crop  ;  but  Grandma  Keeler 
nipped  this  reckless  and  irreverent  adventure  in  the  bud, 
by  replying  in  a  calm,  vast  tone  :  — 

"  Pa,  it  r'aly  seems  to  me  that  for  a  vain  creetur  in  a 
fleetin'  world,  and  a  perfessor  besides,  there'd  ought  to 
be  more  things  to  talk  about  than  beans  !  " 

Grandpa  Keeler  sighed  still  more  deeply,  gazed  wist- 
fully towards  the  barn,  as  though  he  would  fain  have 
shuffled  out  in  that  direction  ;  but  the  weather  being  so 
warm,  he  refrained.  He  glanced  at  me  with  a  feeble, 
helpless  smile,  his  head  fell  backward,  his  eyes  gradually 
closed,  and,  in  spite  of  the  iniquities  which  covered  his 
ancient  head,  he  fell  into  a  slumber  that  had  all  the  sem- 
blance of  childlike  and  unblemished  innocence. 


298  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

DEATH    OF    THE    CRADLEBOW. 

HILE  Grandpa  Keeler  dozed  peacefully,  Emily 
Gaskell,  also  "passin'by,"  joined  the  group  of 
women  on  the  doorsteps  of  the  Ark. 

Emily,  by  the  way,  was  regarded  as  a  hopeful  subject 
of  the  "awakeninV  She  had  been  to  see  a  doctor  in 
Farmouth,  who  told  her  she  could  not  live  through 
another  winter  "  with  that  cough  on  her."  She  sat  very 
still  in  the  meetings,  it  was  said,  and  seemed  "  tetched 
and  wonderful,"  whereas  she  had  been  wont  formerly, 
on  occasions  of  this  solemn  nature,  to  evince  many  signs 
of  restlessness,  and  even  to  engage  in  droll  and  sly  diver- 
sions for  the  greater  delectation  of  the  "  unconsarned." 

Emily  herself  was  particularly  unreserved  on  the 
subject  of  her  spiritual  condition.  Her  tone  had  lost 
none  of  its  former  bright  vivacity,  though  I  thought  I 
saw  frequently  now,  while  she  was  talking,  a  softer 
shadow  steal  over  the  restless,  consuming  fire  in  her 
blue  eyes. 

"  I  know  what  some  on  'em  say,"  said  she  ;  "  I  know 
what  I  might  'a'  said,  jest  as  like  as  not,  if  it  had  been 
somebody  else  in  my  place.  Oh,  she's  afraid  she  ain't 
a  goin'  to  git  well,  and  so  she's  a  seekin'  religion.  She's 
scart  into  it ! 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  299 

"  Wall,  if  folks  that  know  me  are  a  mind  to  say  that, 
they  may ;  though  if  it  comes  to  bein'  scart  into  religion 
by  what  the  doctors  said,  I  should  'a'  jined  the  church 
twenty  times  over ! 

"  It  ain't  because  I'm  afraid  o'  what'll  happen  to  me 
after  I'm  all  dead  and  peaceable.  It's  because  I  want  a 
little  more  comfort  while  I'm  a  livin'.  Seems  to  me 
there's  more  comfort  needed  for  the  livin'. 

"  And  ever  since  my  Brother  'Lihu  died,  seems  as 
though  them  last  words  o'  hisn  have  been  a  ringin'  in 
my  ears.  '  I  know  somebody  that'll  watch.  Who  ? 
Jesus  will !  Jesus  will ! '  over  and  over  again.  And 
when  I  get  to  worryin'  about  things,  and  can't  see  no 
way  through,  or  whoever's  a  goin'  to  straighten  em'  out, 
it  keeps  agoin',  'Who,  then?  Jesus  will !  Jesus  will!' 
over  and  over.  And  'Lihu  wasn't  a  professor,  neither ; 
and  maybe  he  hadn't  no  right  to  take  the  comfort  out  o' 
them  words  that  he  did  ;  and  maybe  I  hain't  no  right,  and 
it's  only  like  a  string  o'  music  that'll  keep  a  runnin'  in  a 
body's  head  sometimes  and  they  not  thinkin'  nor 
meanin'  any  thin'. 

"  I  don't  see  any  further  into  it  than  I  did  afore.  I 
don't  know  as  I'm  what  you'd  call  any  more  believin', 
but  when  I've  laid  till  after  midnight  with  my  eyes  as 
wide  open  as  daylight,  and  no  shut  to  'em,  thinkin'  and 
worryin'  and  coughin',  I've  seen  it  ag'in,  jest  the  way  he 
rolled  and  tossed  that  night,  and  then  them  words  come 
to  him,  and  he  smiled  and  went  to  sleep  peacefuller  nor 
any  child  ;  and  so  J've  said  'em,  and  faith  or  no  faith, 
believin'  or  no  believin',  they've  set  me  a  cryin',  time 
and  ag'in,  and  they've  put  me  to  sleep  !  thar',  they've  put 
me  to  sleep  !  " 


300  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

"  And  who  else  could  they  'a'  be'n  meant  for  but  him 
and  you?  "  cried  Grandma,  in  a  gush  of  sympathy  ;  "  him 
and  you,  and  anybody  else  as  you  seen  needed  them 
words  and  could  give  'em  to  'em  to  quiet  'em ;  for,  dear 
woman  !  there  ain't  none  on  us  that  see  into  it,  but  jest 
to  say  it  over.  Dear  woman  !  we  don't  know  no  more. 
It's  what's  a  restin'  all  on  us.  It's  what's  a  restin'  all 
on  us !  " 

I  looked  up  and  saw  tears  in  Madeline's  eyes.  I  had 
not  heard  Madeline  spoken  of  as  among  the  number  of 
the  impressed.  There  were  tears  in  my  own  eyes,  I 
knew ;  there  had  grown  to  be  such  a  pathos  in  those 
women's  voices. 

A  little  later,  Emily  lapsed  into  a  strain  of  sprightly 
gossip. 

"  And  who  do  you  think's  kitin'  around  in  this  region 
ag'in  ?  "  she  began.  "  Somebody  you'd  expect  least  of 
all,  I  reckon  ;  wall,  it's  Dave  Rollin,"  and  she  nodded 
her  head  quickly  and  expressively  at  the  others. 

"  I  don't  mean,"  she  continued  ;  "  that  he's  been  in 
Wallencamp,  but  Levi  was  down  from  Wallen  this 
mornin',  and  he  said  they  stopped  last  night  in  Wallen 
Harbor  —  him  and  some  other  fellers,  mighty  stylish 
lookin',  but  he  said  it  was  Dave  Rollin's  yacht,  as  fine 
and  fancy-rigged  as  ever  he  see,  and  there  was  some  that 
looked  like  common  sailors,  and  they  all  come  ashore, 
and  the  common  ones  was  the  quietest.  But  he  reckoned 
the  fisherman  was  off  on  ,'  a  time,'  and  stopped  there 
jest  for  fun,  and  to  show  off,  maybe. 

"  Wall,  Levi  told  me  that,  and  to-day,  'long  about  the 
middle  o'  the  forenoon,  my  man  come  up  to  the  house 
—  he's  down  to  shore,  you  know,  along  o'  Cap'n  Sartell 


'THE   PURTIEST   LITTLE  CRAFT,  THAT  RUNS  JUST   LIKE  A  PICTER. 
Page  301 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  301 

and  George  Olver  and  Lute  Cradlebow  and  all  the  rest, 
down  there  a  mendin'  up  the  old  schooner,  'cause  Cap'n 
wanted  Lute  to  see  to  it  afore  he  went  away.  My  man 
come  up  for  a  wrench,  and  '  Who  do  you  think's  a  scootin' 
around  down  on  the  Bay  ? '  says  he.  '  Wall,  it's  Dave 
Rollin,'  says  he ;  'in  the  purtiest  little  craft,  that  runs 
jest  like  a  picter,'  and  he  said  they  couldn't  see  but  two 
men  aboard  of  her  then  ;  he  guessed  they  wan't  many. 
It  was  jest  like  Dave  Rollin  to  take  a  run  from  Wallen 
down  this  way  to  show  what  he  could  do  alone,  for  he 
was  always  braggin'  about  bein'  so  stiddy  on  his  sea- 
legs,  and  how't  he  understood  this  shore  better'n  anyo' 
the  old  uns. 

"  My  man  said  they  didn't  know  who  'twas  out  there, 
at  first,  for  it  ain't  the  kind  o'  vessel  often  seen,  and  it 
skimmed  along  on  the  edge  o'  the  water,  Sim  said,  like 
a  bird,  in  and  out  amongst  the  rocks,  so't  anybody'd  a 
thought,  not  knowin'  who  they  was  —  and  them,  may  be, 
not  knowin'  the  shore  —  that  they  was  drunk  or  gone 
crazy  ;  and  Sim  said  they  hollered  to  'em  to  look  out  for 
the  rocks,  and  they  heered  a  kind  of  a  laugh  on  the  water, 
and  somebody  shouted  back  : 

"  '  Stow  your  gab,  land  lubbers ! '  and  they  knew  from 
the  voice  it  was  Dave  Rollin. 

"  He  was  probably  meanin'  to  put  in  there,  and  might 
'a'  come  ashore  may  be,  —  he  was  wild  enough  —  but  he 
seen  our  men  and  that  kind  o'  hendered  him ;  he  didn't 
want  to  turn  round  and  put  right  back  neither,  lookin' 
as  though  he  was  scared,  so  he  kep'  on,  and  Sim  said 
they  watched  'em  clean  out  o'  sight ;  '  but,'  says  he,  '  1 
never  seen  a  man  turn  whiter'n  George  Olver  did  for 
a  minute,  and  then  he  onclinched  his  fist  and  went  to 


302  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

work  ag'in,  harder  than  ever,  for  you  can  allays  depend 
on  'im,  somehow —  George  Olver — but  he's  a  dreadful 
close-mouthed  fellow  !  " 

During  the  recital  of  this  narrative,  recalling  so  much 
to  my  mind,  I  experienced  more  than  anything  else  a 
feeling  of  annoyance,  almost  of  resentment,  that  the  fish- 
erman should  appear,  however  remotely,  to  disturb  the 
serenity  of  these  last  few  days  in  which  I  had  to  live  out 
my  Wallencamp  idyl. 

For  the  others  the  story  seemed  to  have  created  a 
momentary  excitement,  but  they  regarded  itr  on  the 
whole,  as  of  little  consequence. 

Aunt  Patty  had  passed  on  to  the  doorway  of  another 
neighbor,  and  George  Olver's  relations  with  Rebecca 
soon  constituted  the  theme  of  a  more  general  and  lively 
discourse,  in  which  the  remarks  concerning  Rebecca 
were  mostly  kind  and  considerate,  and  the  praise  of 
George  Olver's  conduct  enthusiastic  ;  and,  at  the  close 
of  which,  I  remember,  Grandma  said  that  "the  higher 
minded  folks  gits  to  be,  the  pitifuller  they  be  a'most 
always ! " 

The  fact  of  the  fisherman's  transient  appearance  on 
the  Bay  was  not  again  alluded  to,  nor  do  I  think  the 
mind  of  any  one  present  reverted  to  it,  when  Grandpa 
Keeler,  looking  up  with  that  utterly  dazed  and  bewil- 
dered air  which  betokened  a  decisive  awakening  on  his 
part,  cast  his  eye  along  the  horizon,  and  observed 
gravely,  — 

"  Storm  a  brewin',  ma." 

"  You've  been  asleep,  pa,"  said  Grandma,  in  sweetly 
mollifying  tones ;  and  Emily  Gaskell,  almost  involun- 
tarily, glanced  up  at  me  with  a  mischievous,  anticipative 
wink. 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


3<>3 


"  Asleep,  ma,"  said  Grandpa  Keeler ;  "  no,  I  hain't 
been  asleep,  neither !  And  what  if  I  had,  ma  ?  That 
don't  bender  a  storm's  brewin',  does  it  ?  " 

"We've  be'n  seein'  them  little  wind  clouds  passin' 
afore  the  sun  for  half  an  hour  past,"  explained  Grandma 
Keeler,  composedly. 

But  Grandpa  scanned  the  sky  with  a  dark,  keen 
glance  —  the  air  of  an  old  voyager  on  stormy  and  literal 
seas,  and  he  shook  his  head,  sagely. 

"  Wall,  wall,  ma,"  he  said,  "  it  don't  make  no  differ- 
ence whether  it's  a  wind-storm  or  a  rain-storm  that  I 
know  on,  but  a  tempest  it's  brewin',  sartin  sure.  I 
remember  once,  we'd  had  a  spell  o'  weather  jest  like  this, 
and  it  begun  to  gether  up  in  the  same  way.  It  was  in 
the  same  latitude,  teacher,  same  latitude.  I  was  off 
cruisin'  with  Bob  Henchy — whew  !  that  ar'  was  a  singin' 
gale  I  I  remember  it  as  well  as  yesterday.  I  was  off 
with  Bob " 

"  Are  you  sure  it  was  Bob  ye  was  off  with,  pa,"  inter- 
rupted Grandma.  "  I  could  a'most  write  a  book,  pa, 
while  you  was  tellin'  a  story." 

"  Wall,  wall,  ma !  Write  a  book,  if  ye  want  to  ! "  ex- 
claimed Grandpa,  with  sweeping  force.  "  I'm  sure  no- 
body wants  to  bender  yer  writing  a  book  if  ye  want  to, 
ma!" 

Grandma  Keeler  heeded  not  those  derisive  words. 
Her  mind  was  bent  on  pursuits  of  a  far  loftier  and  more 
engrossing  nature.  In  respect  to  the  weather — except 
on  Sabbath  mornings,  when  it  was  impossible  to  credit 
Grandpa  with  perfect  fairness  and  impartiality  of  judg- 
ment —  Grandma,  it  must  be  said,  had  real  faith  in  the 
old  sea-captain's  prognostications. 


304  CAPE  COD   FOLKS. 

"  It  does  look  like  a  shower,  and  a  mighty  sudden 
one,"  said  Emily.  She  thrust  her  knitting-work  in  hei 
pocket,  donned  her  sun-bonnet,  and  departed  with  other 
chance  occupants  of  the  doorsteps.  And  Grandma,  too, 
admitted  the  prospect  of  foul  weather  by  throwing  a 
handkerchief  over  her  head  and  going  out  to  fetch  the 
milk-pans. 

Since  early  spring  Grandma  Keeler  had  put  her  milk- 
pans  to  dry  in  the  sun  on  a  bench  half-way  up  the 
"  Pastur-Hill."  Why  she  should  choose  to  place  them 
at  such  a  seemingly  capricious  and  unnecessary  distance 
from  the  house,  for  it  was  really  no  inconsiderable  jour- 
ney for  Grandma,  taking  into  account  her  peculiar  style 
of  locomotion ;  whether  she  considered  that  the  rays  of 
the  morning  sun  visited  them  more  directly  on  that 
plane,  or  that  the  elevation  exposed  them  to  peculiar 
atmospheric  advantages;  these  were  questions  which 
the  curious  mind  was  left  to  solve  for  itself,  for  the  grave 
office  of  carrying  out  and  bringing  in  the  milk-pans  was 
performed  by  Grandma  with  an  air  of  mysterious  calm, 
which  admitted  of  no  profane  comment  or  speculation. 

Madeline  laughed,  watching  her,  the  musical  notes 
ringing  out  with  a  touch  of  insane  gayety. 

"  If  ma  knew  it  was  Judgment  Day,"  said  she,  "  she'd 
carry  those  milk-pans  up  the  hill  to  dry,  and  if  she  knew 
it  was  Judgment  Hour  she'd  go  to  fetch  'em." 

The  scene  grew  rapidly  weird  as  the  sky  darkened. 
A  low  sigh,  like  a  premonition,  crept  through  the  heavy 
atmosphere  and  shivered  among  the  peach-blossoms. 

The  first  gust  of  wind  seized  Grandma,  returning  with 
the  milk-pans.  It  was  a  zephyr  compared  with  the 
blasts  that  followed,  but  it  had  the  effect  of  giving  to 


CAPE  COD   FOLKS.  305 

that  good  soul's  usually  composed  and  reassuring  pres- 
ence, something  of  the  appearance  of  a  crazy  and  dis- 
mantled ship,  rolling  in  a  high  sea. 

Grandpa  was  quick  at  detecting  the  resemblance,  and 
hailed  her  approach  in  thrilling  nautical  terms,  such  as : 
"  Why  didn't  ye  reef  yer  topgallant,  ma  ! "  when  the 
handkerchief  was  torn  off  her  head  ;  and  "  hang  to  the 
main-royal,  ma,"  as  Grandma's  apron  was  caught  up 
and  borne,  wildly  fluttering,  about  her  ears  ;  and  "keep 
your  ballast,  ma,"  with  frequent  ejaculations  of  "  Lor', 
how  she  pitches  !  how  she  pitches  ! " 

These  were  not  thrown  out  as  light  shafts  of  ridicule. 
It  was  no  occasion  for  such.  There  was  an  awful 
earnestness  in  Grandpa  Keeler's  eye  and  in  his  tone, 
that  invested  his  words  with  due  solemnity.  Grandma, 
struggling  with  the  wind,  had  not  heard  them.  She  en- 
tered the  Ark,  however,  cheerful  though  panting. 

"  Bijonah  Keeler,"  said  she,  in  accents  of  real  affec- 
tion, "  I  wouldn't  have  you  out  in  that  wind  for  no 
money — not  for  no  money,  nor  our  teacher,  neither. 
Why,  no  stronger  than  she  is  now,  it  'ud  take  the  breath 
right  out  of  our  teacher's  body  !  Why,  ef  it  hadn't  been 
for  the  cargo  I  had  on  board,  pa,"  continued  Grandma, 
naturally  falling  into  the  same  train  of  ideas  we  had 
followed,  while  watching  her  battle  with  the  elements, 
"  I  should  'a'  slipped  moorin's,  sure  !  " 

A  casual  listener  might  have  smiled  at  this,  in  view 
of  Grandma's  substantial  physique. 

Presently  she  said,  as  though  the  thought  had  just 
struck  her ;  "  I  hope  fisherman's  got  back  to  Wallen 
Harbor,  pa." 

"And  if    he    ain't,    ma,"  replied    Grandpa  Keeler, 


306  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

sententiously,   "  he'll   know  what  it  is  to  be  out  in    a 
squall !  but  I  reckon  he's  looked  out  for  himself." 

The  old  Captain's  face  grew  graver  ;  his  eyes,  in  that 
closed  room,  which  had  grown  so  suddenly  dark,  took 
on  an  intensely  solemn  look.  He  did  not  attempt  the 
narration  of  any  stormy  adventures  of  old.  Perhaps  the 
scenes  of  the  past  rose  too  vividly  before  his  eyes.  .But, 
as  the  fiercest  gusts  came,  he  kept  muttering :  — 

"I  knew  what  it  meant — mild  winter  on  the  Cape! 
There's  the  devil  in  the  old  Cape  weather,  teacher,  and 
he  never  skipped  four  seasons  yit !  If  it  ain't  one 
time,  it  must  be  another.  Yis,  yis  !  mild  winter  on  the 
Cape,  and  no  March  to  speak  on,  and  a  hurricane  in 
summer !  Wall,  we're  both  on  us  right,  ma,  and  we're 
both  on  us  wrong.  It  ain't  neither  wind  nor  rain,  but 
the  heavens  let  loose,  and  God  A'mighty's  own  power  a 
blowin'  of  it.  Yis,  yis  !  I  had  my  misgivin's  all  along  ; 
thinks  I,  better  a  little  more  weather  now,  than  to  blast 
every  livin'  thing  by  and  by ;  but  I  hadn't  no  idee  o' 
this  !  The  Lord  ha'  mercy !  The  Lord  ha'  mercy !  " 

For  all  that  one  could  see  through  the  windows  was 
a  great  black  sheet  of  driving  rain,  and  the  roar  of  the 
storm  was  terrible.  The  Ark  shook.  It  seemed,  at  each 
successive  blast,  as  though  the  walls  would  fall  in  over  our 
heads.  One  could  easily  imagine  the  whole  crazy  struc- 
ture borne  onward  before  the  resistless  tempest,  to  take 
a  final  wild  leap  from  the  cliffs. 

"  Wallencamp's  agittin'  all  mixed  up,"  said  Grandpa, 
without  the  faintest  tinge  of  humor,  now.  "  We  sha'n't 
know  where  to  find  ourselves  when  we  git  out  o'  this 
'ere,  ef  we  ever  do  git  out  on't.  Lord  ha'  mercy! " 

Madeline  sat  very  white  and  still,  resting  her  chin  on 
her  hands,  her  great  eyes  staring  out. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  307 

Grandma  held  the  two  frightened  children  in  her  lap. 
She  was  rocking  and  singing  to  them  in  a  low,  crooning 
tone.  Though  she  was  pale  and  her  lips  trembled, 
there  was  still  about  her  a  soothing  atmosphere  of 
peace. 

1  was  frightened,  like  the  children.  I  longed  to  cry 
out  as  they  had  done  ;  to  bury  my  head  away  from  the 
terrors  somewhere,  as  they  did  in  Grandma's  lap. 

"  That  was  the  blackest  squall,"  said  Grandpa  Keel- 
er,  afterwards ;  "  that  ever  swep'  across  the  Cape !  " 

Terrible  as  it  had  been,  it  died  quickly.  The  transi- 
tion seemed  miraculous  from  the  sullen  roar  of  the  wind 
and  torrent-fall  of  rain,  to  the  renewed  chirping  of  the 
birds,  the  quiet  dripping  of  the  eaves,  and  sunshine 
over  all. 

But  the  young  peach-tree  that  had  stood  by  the  win- 
dow of  the  Ark,  and  sent  its  fragrance  into  my  little 
room  above,  lay  prone  upon  the  ground.  When  she 
saw  that,  Grandma  Keeler  moaned  heart-brokenly,  as 
though  it  had  been  some  fair. human  life  stripped  sud- 
denly of  its  promise  and  left  to  wither  fruitlessly. 

There  were  traces  of  the  storm  everywhere.  Trees 
that  had  stood  isolated  in  the  fields  lay,  some  of  them, 
with  roots  exposed  ;  others  were  broken  off  at  the  trunk, 
left  with  only  a  branch  or  two,  helpless  figures  with  out- 
stretched arms,  to  give  a  weird  desolation  to  the  land- 
scape by  and  by,  I  thought  with  a  shudder,  when  winter 
should  come  again  to  Wallencamp. 

The  fences — what  remained  of  them  from  former 
depredations  —  had  either  fallen  utterly  to  the  ground,  or 
assumed  a  strikingly  precarious  position. 

Part  of  the  roof  of  Mr.  Randal's    house  had   been 


3o8  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

blown  off,  and  the  chimneys  of  several  of  the  Wallen- 
camp  houses  demolished,  and  Grandpa's  barn  twisted 
and  distorted  almost  beyond  recognition. 

That  poor  old  gentleman  put  on  his  hat  and  stepped 
out  of  the  door  cautiously,  looking  about  him  like  one 
in  a  dream. 

The  Ark  had  stood  firm,  apparently,  in  its  old  resting- 
place.  Grandma  and  Madeline  proceeded  to  sweep  out 
the  rain  which  had  been  driven  in  through  the  cracks, 
and  then  it  was  that  little  Henry  G.  came  running,  with 
a  white  face,  to  the  door.  He  had  an  air  of  childish 
importance,  too,  as  being  the  first  to  bear  tidings  of 
some  strange  and  dreadful  event,  and  eager  to  hasten 
to  other  doors. 

"  Where's  the  rest  ?  "  he  gasped,  seeing  only  me  in 
the  room.  "  You  tell  'em,  teacher,  Lute  Cradlebow's 
drownded  !  "  and  the  boy  disappeared,  without  another 
word. 

I  was  already  faint  from  the  reaction  of  the  excite- 
ment incident  to  the  storm,  weak  with  the  effort  I  had 
made  to  "  hold  myself  still."  I  heard  Grandma  call- 
ing quickly,  "  Child  !  child  !  "  I  saw  her  coming 
towards  me,  and  then  I  lost  consciousness. 

At  evening,  while  the  sun  went  down  over  the  hill  by 
which  the  transfigured  river  flowed,  Captain  Sartell  sat 
in  the  door  of  the  Ark,  and  told  the  story. 

The  marvellous  light  was  on  his  face,  too.  It  fell,  in 
shafts  of  glory,  on  the  bright  foliage  of  the  fallen  tree. 

Grandma  was  at  Godfrey  Cradlebow's,  but  Grandpa 
Keeler  was  within  the  Ark,  and  Madeline  caressing  her 
children  with  a  new  fondness.  There  were  a  few  of  the 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  309 

neighbors  present ;  they  looked  neither  frightened  no! 
curious,  but  ineffably  exalted. 

"  We'd  got  our  work  about  done,"  said  Captain  Sar- 
tell,  speaking  mechanically  and  with  little  of  his  custom- 
ary hesitation  of  manner.  "  As  near  as  I  calk'late, 
there  wa'n't  a  half  hour's  more  work  to  do  on  the  old 
craft,  and  it  had  got  to  be  sometime  arter  noon,  but  says 
the  boys,  '  Let's  finish  her  off,  now  we've  got  so  near 
through,  and  not  have  to  come  back  ag'in.'  They  was 
always  a  cheery  set  —  especially  him  —  when  they  took 
hold  of  a  job,  to  put  it  through. 

"  We'd  seen  them  sailin'  fellows  go  by  a  while  before  ; 
and  we  knew  Rollin  was  one  of  'em.  They  wasn't  but 
two,  as  we  could  see,  managin'  the  craft ;  and  they  was 
full  sail,  clippin'  it  lively.  I  calk'late  there  ain't  many 
knows  this  shore  better'n  me,  but  I  wouldn't  'a'  durst 
skirted  along  the  adge  down  thar'  at  sech  a  rate,  not  in 
the  finest  day  blowin'.  First,  we  thought  it  was  some- 
body didn't  know  what  they  was  about.  When  we  made 
out  it  was  Rollin,  we  knew,  if  he  was  drunk,  he  was 
tol'able  well  acquainted  with  the  rocks  along  shore,  and 
'ud  probably  put  further  out  when  he  got  through  showin' 
off.  We  didn't  worry  about  'em,  nor  think  no  more 
about  'em,  in  special.  The  boys  didn't  want  to  talk  to 
rile  George  Olver. 

"  So  we  kep'  to  work,  and  in  a  minute,  cheery  ag'in 
with  the  hammers  click,  clickin'  —  and  every  now  and 
then  the  boys  'ud  strike  'up  a  singin'  somethin',  '  Beyond 
the  River,'  and  'Homeward  Bound.' 

"  It  sounded  dredful  purty  down  thar'  by  the  water, 
with  the  water  and  the  wideness  all  around  sorter  soft- 
enin'  of  it.  It  made  a  man  feel  curious  and  wishful 
somehow. 


3io 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


"  Well,  by  and  by,  him  and  George  Olver  struck  up  a 
song.  I've  heern  'em  sing  it  before,  them  two.  As  nigh 
as  I  calk'late,  it's  about  findin'  rest  in  Jesus,  and  one  a 
askin'  questions,  all  fa'r  and  squar',  to  know  the  way  and 
whether  it's  a  goin'  to  lead  thar'  straight  or  not,  and  the 
other  answerin'.  And  he  —  he  was  a  tinkerin',  'way  up 
on  the  foremast,  George  Olver  and  the  rest  on  us  was 
astern, — and  I'll  hear  to  my  dyin'  day  how  his  voice 
came  a  floatin'  down  to  us  thar'  —  chantin'-like  it  was 
—  cl'ar  and  fearless  and  slow.  *  So  he  asks,  for  findin' 
Jesus,  ef  thar's  any  marks  to  foller  by  ;  and  George 
Olver,  he  answers  about  them  bleedin'  nail-prints,  and 
the  great  one  in  His  side.  So  then  that  voice  comes 
down  ag'in,  askin'  if  thar's  any  crown,  like  other  kings, 
to  tell  Him  by;  and  George  Olver,  he  answers  straight 
about  that  crown  o'  thorns.  Then  says  that  other  voice, 
floatin'  so  strong  and  cl'ar,  and  if  he  gin  up  all  and 
follered,  what  should  he  have  ?  what  now  ? 

"  So  George  Olver,  he  sings  deep  o'  the  trial  and  the 
sorrowin'.  But  that  other  voice  never  shook,  a  askin', 
and  what  if  he  helt  to  Him  to  the  end,  what  then  should 
it  be,  what  then  ?  George  Olver  answers  :  '  Forever- 
more,  the  sorrowin'  ended  —  Death  gone  over.' 

"  Then  he  sings  out,  like  his  mind  was  all  made  up, 
'  And  if  he  undertook  it,  would  he  likely  be  turned 
away  ? ' 

" '  And  it's  likelier/  George  Olver  answers  him  ;  '  that 
heaven  and  earth  shall  pass.' 

"  So  I'll  hear  it  to  my  dyin'  day —  his  voice  a  floatin' 
down  to  me  from  up  above  thar',  somewhar',  askin'  them 
questions  that  nobody  could  ever  answer  like,  so  soon, 
he  answered  'em  for  himself  —  and  when  I  looked  up, 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  3U 

thar'  was  Harvey,  with  his  hammer  dropped,  and  his 
mouth  wide  open,  a  starin'  up  thar',  and  the  tears 
rollin'  down  his  cheeks  like  he  was  a  baby. 

"  They  didn't  sing  no  more,  after  that.  They  was 
still  for  about  five  minutes,  I  calk'late.  Harvey,  he  was 
still,  too ;  but  pretty  soon,  he  wakes  up  and  says,  '  Gad, 
boys  !  Did  ye  ever  see  sech  a  queer  look  in  the  sky  r 
I  believe  thar's  a  September  gale  brewin'." 

" '  It's  a  little  wind  storm,  I  reckon,'  says  Bachelder. 
Bachelder  was  settin',  with  his  legs  curled  up  under  him, 
mendin'  sail,  and  he  begun  to  spin  one  o'  them  yarns  o' 
hisn,  with  his  voice  pitched  up  middlin'  high,  and  the 
boys,  they  begun  to  laugh  and  cheer. 

"  Then  Harvey  says  ;  '  I'll  run  up  to  headquarters, 
and  find  out  about  the  weather  ; '  and  clim'  up  the  main- 
mast as  limber  as  a  squirrel,  and  when  he  came  back, 
thar'  was  Tommy's  hat  stickin'  way  up  top  o'  the  mast ; 
so  Tommy,  he  promised  to  pay  him  —  them  two  was 
always  foolin'  together,  but  good-natered  enough."  The 
captain  introduced  this  little  incident,  in  the  midst  of 
his  narration,  with  a  dull,  pathetic  gravity,  "  It  was  the 
last  thing  we  thought  on,  o'  bein'  fearful,  or  calk'latin' 
any  danger.  We  reckoned  it  was  a  brisk  little  shower 
comin'  up,  maybe,  and  the  boys  was  runnin'  one  another 
about  gittin'  into  the  cabin,  and  runnin'  on  about  the  old 
craft. 

"  Then  thar'  come,  all  of  a  sudden,  sech  a  strange 
feelin',  as  ef  the  'arth  and  the  water  was  a  tremblin',  and 
a  dreadful  moanin'  sound  runnin'  through  'em.  Seemed 
as  though  it  came  swirlin'  across  the  bay.  Then  it  bust 
on  us  in  a  fury. 

"  He  was  out,  sorter  lookin'  around  him,  Bachelder 


312 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


was,  and  the  wind  took  Bachelder  up,  and  keeled  'im 
over  two  or  three  times  runnin'. 

"  Black  it  grew  as  the  Jedgement  day.  Then  come 
no  sich  rain  as  ever  I  see,  even  the  pourin'est,  but  the 
clouds  fallin'  all  to  once,  and  the  wind  a  scatterin'  of 
'em,  and  up  on  the  cliffs,  we  could  jest  hear  a  creakin' 
and  a  bendin'  whar'  the  trees  was  turned  as  white  as 
ghosts  in  that  'ere  blackness,  and  the  old  Bay,  in  sech  a 
minute,  was  spinnin'  into  foam. 

"  We  was  shelterin'  around  the  old  craft  now,  sure 
enough,  and  nobody  speakin'  a  word,  but  jest  a  holdin' 
our  breaths  a  waitin',  when,  in  among  them  other  noises, 
thar'  come,  out  on  the  water,  sech  a  low,  dull  sound  as 
sent  the  awful  truth  on  us  in  a  minute,  and  for  a  minute, 
that  ar'  right  hand  of  mine  was  numb. 

"  Then  Harvey,  he  had  hold  o'  me,  a  pintin'  out,  and 
whether  he  spoke  a  word  or  not,  I  seen  it  —  through 
wind  and  rain  and  foam,  all  in  my  eyes  to  once,  I  seen 
—  reelin'  and  tossin'  and  pitchin',  out  thar'  on  the  Bay, 
lost,  lost  for  sure  —  I  seen  that  fancy  ship  ! 

"  Thar'  wa'n't  no  hand  on  'arth  could  guide  it,  now. 
Every  second  was  like  to  see  it  keeled  squar'  over,  or 
slipped  and  driv'  in,  straight  on  to  the  rocks. 

"  We're  used  to  other'n  fa'r  weather  along  this  shore. 
I  calk'late  we  ain't  used  to  frighten  at  a  little  danger, 
but  knowin'  the  sea  so  well,  we  know  the  helplessness 
a'most  o'  puttin'  out  in  sech  a  gale  as  that. 

"  I  heered  the  sound.  It  only  came  but  once  :  and 
Bede  hissed  through  his  teeth,  a  cryin'  too,  a'most : 
'  Ain't  thar'  no  other  way  to  werry  us,  but  they  must 
come  in  here  to  drown  afore  our  very  eyes  !  A  fool's 
ventur'  !  what  could  ye  expect  but  a  fool's  end  !  Ef  he 
must  drown,  let  the  red-haired  devil  drown  ! ' 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


313 


"  But  when  they  heered  it,  them  two,  him  and  George 
Olver,  I  knowed  how  it  would  be.  I  hardly  durst  to 
look.  I  seen  them  flash  at  one  another  with  their 
great  eyes,  as  ef  it  wa'n't  enough  to  do  man's  work,  but 
when  thar'  come  a  chance,  they  must  go  act  like  God  ! 
I  seen  in  jest  that  flash,  them  two  agreein'  solemnly. 

"  Then  it  was  all  done  in  a  minute's  space,  like  you'll 
live  yer  life  through  sometimes,  in  a  dream.  They  had 
Bill  Barlow's  eight-oar  ready.  They  pushed  us  back. 
They'd  a'  gone  alone,  them  two.  I  kep'  the  third  place. 
Harvey  and  Tommy  scuffled,  in  a  breath,  and  Harvey, 
he  thrust  Tommy  back,  and  we  was  off. 

"  God  knows  I  never  expected  we'd  come  back  again. 
You  heern  the  wind.  You  can  calk'late  what  it  was  out 
thar'  with  the  rain  a  drivin',  and  the  salt  foam  blowed 
into  our  eyes.  I  calk'late  we  never  fetched  a  harder 
pull,  no,  nor  a  blinder  one. 

"  And  she,  the  cursed  thing,  mad  with  twitchin'  at  her 
cable,  lay  over  to  one  side.  But  she  was  dyin'  mad. 
I  tell  ye  she  was  dyin'  mad.  Thar'  was  them  two  a 
hangin'  to  her  —  thar' hadn't  be'n  but  them.  So  we 
hauled  Rollin  in,  but  that  other  one,  when  he  seen  us, 
the  chance  o'  bein'  saved,  it  crazed  him,  and  he  sent 
up  a  quick,  glad  sort  of  a  yell  and  throwed  his  arms 
out  straight,  and  back  he  fell,  like  lead,  into  the  water. 
And  Rollin,  crouchin'  thar'  and  shiverin',  '  He  couldn't 
swim  !  He's  sunk  !  he's  sunk  ! '  he  says.  Then  he,  he 
ris  up  in  a  flash,  and  out  he  dove  into  that  hell. 

"  Then  come  another  gust,  a  blindin',  blindin',  blindin'. 
'  He'll  weather  it !  He'll  weather  it ! '  George  Olver  kep' 
a  mutterin',  but  his  teeth  was  set ;  his  eyes  shot  through 
me  like  a  tiger's — them  two  was  brothers,  and  more'n 


314  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

brothers,  always.  But  when  thar'  come  a  half  lull  so't 
we  could  see,  and  we  looked  out  and  seen  him  risin'  on 
the  wave,  grippin'  that  other  one,  in  spite  o'  hope  I 
scurse  believed  my  eyes,  and  what  a  shout  they  sent  up 
from  that  boat ! 

"  Ay,  thar'  they  was,  for  sure,  but  —  God,  how  fur 
away !  Not  much  for  common  weather,  but  then  they 
looked  as  fur  to  me  as  'arth  from  heaven.  Ef  we  could 
reach  'em  afore  the  next  sweel  come  ;  and  every  man, 
it  seemed  as  though  he  put  his  livin'  soul  into  his  arms. 
'  Pull !  pull ! '  says  George,  and  seemed  to  git  the 
strength  of  seven,  but  still  we  went  too  slow.  We  missed 
him  at  the  oar.  And  he,  he  was  the  strongest  swimmer 
that  I  ever  knowed,  but  who  could  live  in  the  like  o' 
that  ?  We  pulled  for  life  or  death,  and  that  brave  head 
kep'  risin'  on  the  wave. 

"  Ef  we  could  'a'  had  another  minute  afore  the  next 
sweel  come  !  George  Olver  felt  it.  He  sent  the  rope 
out  with  a  giant's  throw.  Then  it  was  all  and  more  than 
we  could  do  to  hold  the  boat  ag'in  the  wind.  It  come  so 
fast  ye  scurse  could  see  them  next  ye  in  the  boat. 
'  He's  grappled  it !  he's  thar' !  he's  thar' !  says  they, 
and  when  they  pulled  it  in,  thar'  was  that  other  one  helt 
fast,  and  only  him. 

"  God  knows !  I  calk'late  he  made  sure  o'  the  other 
first,  and  thar'  wa'n't  jest  the  breath's  time  left  for  him, 
blinded  so  sudden  maybe,  and  fell  death  faint.  I've 
knowed  it  be  so  with  the  strongest ;  no  wonder  thar' ; 
the  wonder  was  in  what  he  done.  He  was  the  strongest 
swimmer  that  I  ever  knowed,  the  strongest  and  the  fear- 
lessest ! 

"  George  Olver  never'll  be  content.     He  would  'a' 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


31$ 


gone  in  after  him.  We'd  be'n  driv'  a  furlong  back,  I 
reckon,  and  every  mark  was  lost.  It  'ud  be'n  naught 
but  to  swaller  him,  too.  He  lost  his  sense.  We  had  to 
holt  him  back.  He  raved  thar',  like  a  madman.  It 
blew  a  bitter  spell,  longest  of  all,  and  when  it  helt  a  bit 
so  we  could  take  our  bearin's  some'at,  what  hope  !  what 
hope ! 

"  But  poor  George,  of  a  suddint  he  grew  quiet  as  a 
lamb,  and  set  a  lookin'  out,  with  his  hand  light  on  the 
oar,  as  ef  'twas  pleasant  weather,  and  he  could  see  him 
ridin'  in  thar'  easy  on  the  wave ;  and  his  eyes  was  fur 
off  and  smilin',  but  they  looked  as  though  they  died. 

"  Mebbe  —  I  know  no  more. 

"  We  found  him  arterwards.  Thar'  wa'n't  no  mark 
nor  stain  on  him.  You  think  I  talk  dry-eyed.  Go  you 
and  look  at  him.  Somehow  it  don't  leave  ary  breath 
for  cryin'.  It's  like  as  ef  he  knowed.  It's  more  than 
quietness,  seemin'  to  say,  for  all  he  loved  his  life  and 
fou't  so  hard  out  thar',  ter  lose  his  own  at  last  —  givin' 
or  losin',  he  never  missed  o'  naught !  he  never  missed 
o'  naught ! 

"  I  can't  tell  what's  the  thought  comes  nighest  to  ye 
when  we  look  at  him.  I  hain't  got  high  enough  for 
that,  but  I  can  tell  ye  what's  the  furderest  —  weepin' 
and  sorrowin'.  Since  I  seen  him  and  my  little  Bessie 
fell  asleep,  please  God  I  die  a  half  so  trustful  or  so 
brave,  I  make  no  fear  o'  death  !  " 

The  Captain  sighed  a  long,  ecstatic  sigh  and  rose,  the 
after-glow  still  shining  on  his  face.  In  passing  through 
the  room,  he  pressed  something  softly  into  my  hand. 

"We  found  it  in  the  breast-pocket  of  his  coat, 
teacher,"  he  said.  "  The  coat  lay  in  the  bottom  o'  the 


3i6 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


boat,  and  was  soaked  with  brine.     It  had  your  name 
on't." 

When  I  unfolded  it,  it  was  the  little  star-fish  the 
Cradlebow  had  showed  me,  days  before,  still  folded 
close  in  its  delicate  vine  wreath. 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS,  317 


CHAPTER   XX. 

GEORGE  OLVER'S  ORATION. 

HE  Wallencampers  gathered  at  the  Ark,  singing 
a  calm  and  high  farewell  to  earth,  that  alone 
was  meet  for  the  untroubled  lips  of  that  silent 
singer  in  their  midst. 

They  gathered  at  the  Ark.  No  other  place  seemed  to 
them  sacred  enough  for  such  a  meeting,  now ;  no  other 
place  dear  enough  for  the  celebration  of  such  a  solemn, 
long  farewell. 

Over  the  threshold,  where  he  had  come  so  often 
bounding  in  his  life,  they  brought  the  dead  ;  there  was  the 
same  strange  look  of  exaltation  on  their  faces  that  I  had 
noticed  while  Captain  Sartell  told  the  story  of  the  storm ; 
stricken  and  white,  the  poor  faces,  yet  touched  with 
some  daring,  unutterable  hope  —  so  clear  a  message  they 
read  on  that  wondrously  still  and  reconciled  face,  so 
without  fear  the  dead  lips  spoke  to  them. 

To  me,  the  message  was  one  of  infinite  pathos  and 
rebuke,  speaking  of  a  heroism  beyond  my  poor  concep- 
tion, of  a  height  of  glory  of  which  I  had  not  dreamed. 

"  Farewell,  forevermore,"  the  fathomless  far  voice 
murmured  to  my  despair,  and  slowly  and  repeatedly ; 
"  Farewell,  forevermore.  I  am  beyond  the  need  of  your 
poor  love." 


318  CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 

And  my  heart  turned  to  stone,  with  all  the  passionate, 
pure  sorrow  that  might  have  been,  the  tears  in  which 
I  might  have  found  relief. 

Grandma  Keeler's  sacred  "  keepin'  rooms "  were 
opened  wide  for  the  reception  of  this  guest,  yet  the 
sunshine  stole  in  with  a  hallowed  light,  the  entering 
breeze  sighed  low  and  softly.  The  children,  always 
present,  were,  on  this  occasion,  attentively  still. 

There  were  no  external  signs  of  woe  for  the  poor 
Wallencampers  to  assume ;  they  made  no  mad  demon- 
strations of  their  grief ;  the  suffering  and  the  wonder 
were  too  deep. 

Lydia  —  they  all  knew  how  she  had  loved  this  son. 
When  they  returned  from  their  perilous  quest  in  the 
storm,  the  first  words  Captain  Sartell  said  were  ;  "  Who 
must  go  up  now,  and  break  Lyddy's  heart  ?  " 

She  stood  among  the  others,  very  still,  the  old  faded 
mantilla  folded  decently  over  her  shoulders,  the  great 
dark  eyes,  his  eyes,  shining  out  even  kindly  from  the 
worn  face  on  those  who  came  to  speak  to  her. 

Godfrey  Cradlebow  stood  at  the  outer  door,  and 
addressed  the  people  as  they  entered.  Some  said,  after- 
wards, that  he  had  been  drinking ;  others  declared  he 
had  not  touched  a  drop  for  days.  In  the  room  where  I 
stood,  I  heard  his  musical,  deep  tones,  now  swelling  with 
the  fervor  of  his  harangue,  now  broken  and  trembling 
with  emotion. 

"  Enter,  my  friends  !  "  said  this  strange  man.  "  Go 
in,  and  look  on  quietness.  What  do  we  seek  for  most, 
my  friends  ?  Look  out  on  the  world.  It's  a  whole 
world  of  seekers.  How  they  jostle  against  one  another  ! 
how  they  sweat !  how  they  strive !  how  they  toil !  and 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


319 


why  all  this  ?  What  seek  they  for  ?  For  quietness,  my 
friends,  even  so  —  the  quietness  of  wealth  to  gain,  may 
be,  or  competence ;  may  be,  the  quietness  of  some 
renown.  And  some  go  seeking  over  land  and  sea  for 
their  lost  health,  and  quietness  from  pain. 

"  My  friends,  within  there  was  as  restless  a  seeker  as 
I  ever  knew.  Pity  the  old,  my  friends,  but  pity  more  the 
young !  Never  such  dreams  of  rest !  Never  such  rest- 
lessness !  Hush  !  when  he  heard,  he  answered  well. 
He  put  all  by.  Somehow,  we  think  he  has  obtained  — 
wealth,  honor,  perfect  health.  My  friends,  pass  in ! 
behold  this  wonder ! 

"  My  friends,  you  look  up  at  the  sky.  Ah,  what  a 
sky !  purple  and  deep !  Yet  I  see  something  in  your 
eyes  that  is  not  quietness  ;  for  storms  will  come,  too 
well  you  know,  and  the  cold  blasts  of  winter  ;  but  if  you 
knew  that  never  any  sorrowful,  hard  wind  could  sweep 
across  yon  blue — then,  my  friends,  you  would  look  as 
he  looks  who  lies  within  there.  Pass  in  !  pass  in  !  behold 
this  wonder." 

Within,  Grandma  Keeler  stood  with  closed  eyes  and 
folded  hands.  Her  cheeks  were  wet.  She  wore  a 
heavenly,  trustful  expression  of  countenance.  Her  lips 
moved  as  if  in  prayer. 

Aunt  Sibylla  Cradlebow  rose  in  her  place  —  majestic 
and  weird  she  looked,  like  some  old  Eastern  prophetess, 
a  grand  forecasting  in  her  shadowy  eyes. 

"  Gether  in  the  sheaves,"  she  began  ;  "  the  bright 
sheaves,  early  ripe  and  ready  for  the  harvestin' ;  and 
begrudge  not  the  Master  of  His  harvestin'.  Why,  O 
Lord,  Lord,  this  sheaf,  while  there  be  them  that  stand, 
late  harvest  day,  bowed  and  witherin'  in  the  cornfield  ? 


320 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


Because  He  reckons  not  o'  time.  Glory,  glory,  to  the 
Lord  o'  the  harvestin' !  But  gether  in  for  me,  He  says, 
my  bright  sheaves,  early  ripe !  my  sheaves  o'  the  golden 
wine  ! 

"  It  was  the  night  but  two  before  my  grandson  died,  I 
seen  a  death-sign  in  a  dream,  and  so  I  speaks  to  my 
son's  wife,  but '  Fear  you  not,'  I  says  ;  '  it  was  the  blessed 
sign  o'  blessed  death ; '  and  thought  o'  some  one  old 
and  helpless,  sick  maybe,  gettin'  release  thereby.  Why 
this  sheaf,  O  Lord  ?  —  Glory,  glory,  to  the  Lord  o'  the 
harvestin'  !  For  I  dreamt  there  was  a  bird  ketched  in 
my  room,  and  flutterin'  here  and  there,  and  beatin'  'ginst 
the  window  with  its  wings.  And  dreamin'  I  ris  up,  and 
there  was  such  a  light  along  the  floor  as  never  any  moon- 
light that  I  see  was  half  so  solemn  or  so  beautiful.  But 
when  I  stretched  my  hand  to  free  the  poor,  blind,  flutterin' 
bird,  it  ris  away  from  me,  and  spread  its  wings,  snow- 
white,  and  out  it  flew,  and  sharp  and  clear  along  that 
shinin'  track.  Then  when  I  woke,  I  knew  it  was  the 
sign  o'  blessed  death,  nor  ever  feared.  And  God  will 
bear  me  true,  it  was  the  very  night  they  brought  my 
grandson  home  that,  lyin'  down  to  rest  a  while  from 
watchin'  with  the  rest,  nor  ever  wonderin'  nor  layin'  it 
to  mind  what  I  had  dreamed  afore,  but  tired  and  heart- 
broke  only,  I  seen  the  long,  bright  shinin'  track  ag'in,  a 
pourin'  through  the  window ;  and  '  My  son's  son ! '  I 
cries,  '  dear  boy  !  dear  boy  ! '  —  for  it  was  like  him  playin' 
on  his  violin  — '  What  tunes  must  be,'  I  cries,  '  that  you 
play  so  and  scarce  a  day  in  heaven  ! '  But  when  I  ris 
up,  callin',  it  grew  dim  along  the  track,  and  there  was 
mornin'  in  the  room,  and  then  I  heered  them  cryin' 
where  they  watched. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


321 


"Why  this  sheaf,  O  Lord?  —  gather  in  the  sheaves, 

0  Lord,  the  bright  sheaves,  early  ripe  and  ready  for  the 
harvestin'.     Glory,  glory  to   the   Lord  o'  the   harves- 
tin' !  " 

Then  the  Wallencampers  sang  tremblingly  of  the 
"  Harvest  Home."  They  were  glad  when  they  saw 
George  Olver  stand  up  in  their  midst  —  George  Olver, 
least  subject  of  them  all  to  dreams  or  ecstasies,  but 
with  his  slow,  labored  speech,  and  his  sorrowful,  bowed 
head.  He  took  his  place  beside  the  coffin  of  his  friend, 
looked  gently  at  that  face,  and  squared  his  shoulders 
for  a  moment  then,  and  held  his  head  with  the  old  man- 
ly air : 

"  When  Uncle  'Lihu  died,"  said  he ;  "  my  friend  and 
me  walked  home  together  from  the  funeral,  and  Luther 
says  to  me  :  '  I  want  you  to  promise  me,  George,  that  if 

1  shed  die,  you  wouldn't  have  that  man  to  preach  over 
me,'  meanin'  the  minister,  though  he  was  kindly  to  him  ; 
'  and  he  means  well,'  says  he ;  '  but  he  don't  understand 
us ;  he  knows  naught  about  us  'ceptin'  that  now  we're 
dead,  and  not  bein'  usecf  to  them  long  texts  o'  hisn,  it 
frets  our  folks,'  says  he.     '  They  weary  on't,  so  long  a 
string  they  har'ly  understand  ;  but  I  would  rather,'  Lu- 
ther says, '  have  some  one  amongst  my  folks  that  knowed 
me  well,  git  up  and  speak,  ef  it  was  only  :  This  was 
my  friend  lies  here;   I  loved  him.     And   promise    me, 
George,  ef  I  shed  die,  you'd  hev  no  stranger  preachin' 
over  me,  but  speak  some  such  easy  words  yourself  for 
love  o'  me.'     And  I  felt  with  him  thar',  and  promised 
him,  and  he  me ;  but  I  remember  thinkin',  as  I  looked 
at  him,  it's  little  likely  I'll  ever  stand  above  your  grave. 

"  Enough  said.     '  This  was  our  friend  lies  here.     We 


322 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


loved  him.'  We  thank  him  for  them  words.  Better 
nor  more,  they  cl'ar  it  all  up  on  this  side  twixt  him  and 
us.  No  need  ter  tell  o'  what  he  was,  or  what  he  done. 
'Tain't  likely  we'll  forgit.  He  didn't  say  ter  praise  him. 
He  wanted  none  o'  that,  but  jest  we  knowed  and  loved 
him. 

"  And  so  it  might  'a'  been  enough,  but  now,  my  God  ! 
my  God !  as  I  stand  here  aside  o'  him,  he  bids  me, 
plain  as  day,  to  speak  a  word  beyent ;  ef  I  could  only 
name  it,  ef  I  could  only  name  it,  what  looks  so  cl'ar  and 
beautiful  thar'  on  his  face. 

" '  Hold  strong ; '  he  says,  'below  thar'.  Keep  heart 
and  make  cl'ar  reckonin',  for  it's  losin'  all  may  be,  in 
this  'ere  mystery,  makes  cl'arest  gain  o'  all.  There's 
fairer  day  to  rest  ye  arter  storm.  All's  well !  all's 
well ! '  he  says  ;  '  all's  well  beyent.  All's  well  along  this 
shore  ! ' " 

Here  George  Giver's  husky  voice  failed  him  ;  sobs 
rose  in  the  room. 

Then  the  "  farewell "  was  sung,  and  bravely ,  but  at 
the  last,  I  heard  only  Madeline's  voice,  it  grew  so  sur- 
passingly clear  and  sweet ;  it  seemed  to  float  solitary  in 
the  room,  and  to  play  triumphantly  about  the  sleeper's 
lips  —  the  voice,  indeed,  of  a  free  spirit  in  its  bliss, 
thrilled  only  with  some  plaintive  memory  of  human  woe 
and  loss. 


'  Farewell,  ye  dreams  of  night ; 

Jesus  is  mine ! 
Lost  in  this  dawning  bright; 
Jesus  is  mine  I 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS.  323 

All  that  my  soul  has  tried, 
Left  but  a  dismal  void ; 
'Jesus  has  satisfied. 
Jesus  is  mine ! 

Farewell,  mortality ! 

Jesus  is  mine! 
Welcome,  eternity ! 

Jesus  is  mine ! 

Welcome,  the  loved  and  blest ! 
Welcome,  bright  scenes  of  rest  1 
Welcome,  my  Saviour's  breast ! 

Jesus  is  mine! 

Scarcely  had  the  leaves  of  the  fallen  peach-tree  by 
the  window  begun  to  wither  when  the  strong  bearers 
passed  out  with  their  beautiful,  stainless  burden,  while 
slowly,  reverently,  the  little  community  of  mourners 
followed  to  the  grave. 


324 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

FAREWELL   TO   WALLENCAMP. 

:  ET  another  week  passed  in  Wallencamp  before 
I  was  able  to  complete  the  preparations  for  my 
departure. 

One  day,  I  set  myself  with  a  sort  of  listless  fidelity  to 
the  summing  up  of  my  accounts.  I  found,  on  deduct- 
ing the  amount  of  my  actual  expenses  from  the  sum 
total  of  my  earnings  in  Wallencamp,  that  I  had  sixty- 
two  cents  left ! 

The  revelation  caused  me  some  surprise ;  strangely 
little  perturbation  of  spirit.  I  thought  what  tragic  tales 
might  sometimes  lie  hidden  beneath  a  seemingly  dry 
and  senseless  combination  of  figures,  while,  in  my  own 
case,  I  was  merely  struck  with  the  justice  of  those  fig- 
ures. 

For  such  eccentric  and  distracted  services  as  I  had 
rendered  in  Wallencamp,  the  superintendent  of  schools 
had  paid  me  in  full  at  the  price  stipulated,  eight  dollars 
per  week. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  column  of  insolvency,  I  con- 
sidered that  the  West  Wallen  Doctor's  bill  was  an 
expression  of  modesty  itself.  The  sum  due  my  dear 
Madeline  for  "  board,"  at  two  dollars  and  a  half  per  week, 
though  I  trusted  it  was  some  compensation  for  the  merely 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


325 


temporal  advantages  to  be  enjoyed  in  Wall  encamp,  did 
not  appear  as  an  astounding  aggregate.  The  list  of 
"  minor  details  "  was  well  portrayed,  and  presented  an 
aspect  of  clear  use  and  value. 

My  once  fond  dream  of  a  "  private  bank  account " 
had  gradually  faded  from  my  memory.  I  saw  the  last 
spar  in  that  fair  wreck  go  down,  now,  without  a  sigh. 
And  the  "  loans  solicited,"  in  labored  phrase,  as  "  mere 
temporary  conveniences,"  from  the  friends  at  home  — 
these,  I  was  satisfied,  must  remain  only  as  the  sweet 
continuation  of  a  life-long  debt.  But  how  was  I  to  get 
home  ? 

The  combined  fares  on  that  route,  I  remembered,  had 
amounted  to  something  over  nine  dollars !  So  the 
question  haunted  me,  not  restlessly,  but  with  a  vague, 
tranquil,  melancholy  interest,  as  pertaining  to  the  history 
of  some  one  who  had  lived  and  died  a  few  years  before ; 
so  long  indeed,  it  seemed  to  me,  since  I  had  performed 
the  journey  to  Wallencamp. 

I  had  not  written  home  as  to  the  day  of  my  probable 
arrival,  in  this  yielding  passively  to  the  force  of  habit, 
which  had  ever  constrained  me  to  plan  my  returns  as 
"  surprises  "  to  my  family  and  friends. 

But  for  myself,  I  had  fixed  the  day  of  my  departure 
from  Wallencamp,  and,  in  spite  of  the  discovery  made  in 
regard  to  the  insufficient  state  of  my  finances,  looked 
forward  to  that  event  without  any  trepidation,  so  that, 
I  remember — it  was  actually  the  day  before  the  one 
fixed  on,  and  still  no  hope  had  dawned  on  the  financial 
horizon, — when  Grandma  Keeler  embraced  me  with 
some  tender  words  premonitory  of  our  parting,  I  kissed 
her  gratefully,  musing  at  the  same  time  in  dreamy, 


326  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

untroubled  fashion :  "  Yes,  I  must  be  going  home 
to-morrow." 

It  was  on  this  same  day  that  we  drove  to  "  Waller? 
Town,"  Grandma  and  Madeline  and  Becky  and  I.  The 
excursion  was  one  Grandma  had  planned  several  weeks 
before,  and  I  had  no  intention  of  making  it  the  oppor- 
tunity which  I  finally  did. 

As  we  were  passing  a  dingy-looking  establishment, 
where  some  doubtful  articles  of  virtu  appeared  in  the 
window,  an  idea  seized  me,  as  new  as  it  was  comprehen- 
sive of  my  difficulties. 

I  went  in,  ostensibly  to  purchase  a  watch-key,  really 
to  engage  in  negotiations  of  a  more  serious  and  compli- 
cated nature.  The  proprietor  of  the  shop  became  the 
temporary  guardian  of  my  watch,  while  I  was  invested 
with  the  funds  necessary  for  my  homeward  journey.  I 
learned,  afterwards,  that  this  man  had  made  an  excep- 
tion in  the  usually  limited  range  of  his  operations,  in  my 
favor,  his  establishment  not  being,  by  any  means,  that 
of  a  pawnbroker,  but,  in  every  sense,  of  the  most  highly 
moral  and  respectable  nature. 

He  gave  me  such  "  ready  cash  "  as  his  coffers  would 
yield,  with  an  improvised  pawnbroker's  check,  at  the 
composition  of  which  we  had  both  seriously  and 
ingeniously  labored.  I  can  testify  both  to  his  honesty 
and  obligingness.  He  insisted  on  my  taking  with  me, 
"  jest  to  tell  the  time  o'  day,"  a  very  large  watch  in  a 
tarnished  silver  case. 

Not  wishing  to  seem  to  cast  any  disparagement  on 
his  wares,  I  became  the  helpless  recipient  of  this  favor. 
The  article  in  question  was  far  too  large  for  my  watch- 
pocket,  and  had  a  persistent  habit  of  holding  its  mouth 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  327 

wide  open  like  a  too  weary  shell-fish.  On  the  interior 
of  the  case,  one  on  either  side,  were  pasted  photographs 
of  individuals  to  me  unknown,  male  and  female,  their 
countenances  such  as  the  blinded  eye  of  affection  alone, 
I  thought,  could  have  rendered  mutually  entertaining; 
and  the  watch  maintained,  on  all  occasions,  a  system  of 
chronology  peculiarly  its  own. 

As  we  drove  back  to  Wallencamp,  Grandma  Keeler, 
her  great  heart  close  to  Nature  that  sunny  afternoon, 
beguiled  the  way  with  a  gentle  hilarity  which  never 
shocked  or  offended,  but  Becky  put  her  hand  often  in 
mine,  looking  up  with  the  old  helpless,  pleading  expres- 
sion in  her  eyes  —  Becky,  I  knew,  would  remember 
longest. 

Sometimes,  as  my  hand  wandered  almost  uncon- 
sciously to  caress  the  precious  coin  in  my  pocket,  instead 
of  the  wild  tract  of  stunted  cedars  through  which  our 
road  lay,  I  fancied  I  saw  the  great  elms  of  Newtown, 
the  wide,  straight  street,  the  familiar  house,  an  open 
door,  and  —  ah !  it  wasn't  the  first  time  I  had  been  taken 
in  at  that  door,  the  survivor  of  wrecked  ambition  and 
misguided  hope,  only  to  hear  my  shortcomings  made 
tenderly  light  of,  my  most  desperate  follies  lovingly 
ignored  and  forgiven. 

But  I  had  meant  that  it  should  be  so  different  this 
time  !  I  had  gone  out  as  a  missionary ;  and  deeper 
than  ever  in  my  consciousness,  I  must  feel  the  want  and 
woe  of  the  returning  prodigal ;  the  same  old  story,  the 
ever-recurring  failure.  It  seemed  as  though  all  the  won- 
der and  impatience  might  well  go  out  of  my  despair. 

Then  as  I  lent  myself  more  and  more  to  the  contem- 
plation of  that  home  picture,  how  restful  and  happy  it 


328  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

grew  !  but  poor  old  Wallencamp  — for  we  were  nearing 
the  little  settlement  now,  and  the  sun  was  fast  westering 
—  poor,  squalid,  solitary,  beautiful  Wallencamp,  as  I 
looked  down  upon  it  from  the  brow  of  Stony  Hill,  thrilled 
me  with  a  troubled  sense  of  some  diviner,  some  half- 
comprehended  glory. 

The  crimson  glow  had  not  quite  faded  in  the  sky  when 
I  took  my  last  walk  across  the  fields  to  where  the  new 
grave  had  been  made  on  the  hillside.  This  is  the  new 
burying-ground  of  the  Wallencampers  ;  the  old  one  lies 
a  mile  farther  up  the  river,  near  the  Indian  encamp- 
ment. Here  I  saw  more  than  one  simple  slab,  bearing 
the  name  of  Cradlebow.  Here  little  Bess  lies,  too.  The 
hill,  meet  for  such  sublime  repose,  looks  ever  calmly  on 
the  humble,  straggling  homes  of  the  Wallencampers 
below,  and  sees  the  lonely  river  winding  near,  and  hears, 
by  night  and  day,  the  monody  of  deeper  waters. 

I  thought  the  voice  of  that  great  ocean  of  restlessness 
sounding  along  the  shore  might  quiet  my  unrest,  but  the 
beat  of  the  waves,  the  growing  gloom  of  that  still 
evening  hour,  oppressed  me  with  a  feeling  unutterably 
sad.  I  could  not  bear  it,  at  last.  It  seemed  as  though 
another  deep  was  rising  and  breaking  in  my  heart,  the 
flood  of  proud,  half-stifled  passion  waking  in  one  awful 
moment  to  overwhelm  me.  No  light  upon  that  sea  — 
but  hope  wronged,  the  mockery  of  death  for  yearning 
love,  the  unguided  clash  of  drifting  human  lives  ! 

An  agony  of  blindness  swam  before  my  eyes.  I  felt 
my  weak  hands  clutching  at  the  grass,  and  gasped,  as 
though  it  had  been  indeed  in  the  blindness  and  pain  of 
physical  death,  the  prayer  wrung  from  my  selfish  need. 
But  the  answer  was  of  infinite  love  and  compassion.  It 


CAPE  COD  FOLKS. 


329 


came  to  me  then  —  not  as  some  grave  revelation  of 
truth  to  the  "  enlightened  seeker,"  but  like  the  kiss  of 
peace  to  a  tired  child,  a  door  mysteriously  opened  to 
the  self-bound  captive,  to  one  ignorant,  the  light  shining 
along  a  plain,  straight  way.  And  the  doubt  and  terror 
and  anguish  went  out  of  the  world ;  even  the  sorrowless 
farewell  of  frozen  lips  changed  to  tender  benediction. 

When  I  looked  up  at  last,  wondering,  peaceful,  my 
face  wet  with  happy  tears,  the  stars  had  come  out  in  the 
sky,  and,  down  below,  the  windows  of  the  Ark  were 
shining.  The  faint  murmur  of  a  song  was  borne  up  to 
me.  The  Wallencampers  had  gathered  at  the  Ark  to 
celebrate  our  last  "  meeting  '*  together,  and  I  went  down 
to  join  them. 

At  what  ghostly  hour  of  the  next  morning  Grandma 
Keeler  avoke  Grandpa  to  the  unusual  exigencies  of  the 
occasion,  I  cannot  say.  It  was  necessary  for  me  to 
start  very  early  from  the  Ark  to  take  the  train  at  West 
Wallen,  but  when  I  descended  the  stairs,  by  candle- 
light, Grandpa  Keeler  had  been  already  washed  and 
dyed  and  arrayed,  as  for  the  Sabbath,  in  his  best.  Yes, 
and  I  was  constrained  to  believe  that  he  had  even  been 
instructed  in  the  mysteries  of  Sunday-school  lore,  for 
tliere  was  about  him  an  air  of  haggard  and  feverish 
excitement,  and  he  glared  at  my  familiar  presence  with 
wild,  unseeing  eyes. 

Memorable  were  the  colloquies  held  that  morning 
between  Grandma  and  Grandpa  Keeler;  Grandpa's 
tragic  assumption  of  manly  consequence,  and  solemn 
fears  lest  we  should  miss  the  train,  directed  in  astute 
syllables  of  warning  towards  Grandma  Keeler ;  Grand- 


330 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


ma's  increased  deliberation,  and  imperturbable  quietude 
of  soul. 

I  recall  the  strange,  unearthly  aspect  of  the  scenes 
enacted  in  the  Ark  at  that  early  hour,  the  fleeting  vision 
of  a  morning  repast  which  formed  some  accidental  part 
in  the  chaos  of  vaster  proceedings. 

Then,  when  the  first  faint  signs  of  dawn  were  begin- 
ning to  break  through  the  gray  in  the  eastern  sky,  I  bade 
farewell  to  the  Ark  forever,  lingering  a  moment  on  the  old 
familiar  doorstep  for  a  last  word  with  those  of  the 
neighbors  who  had  gathered  there  to  see  us  off,  for  the 
whole  Keeler  family  accompanied  me  to  the  station. 

There  were  others  waiting  at  the  gate  to  say  good- 
bye, and  at  various  posts  all  the  way  down  the  lane.  At 
the  big  white  house,  Emily  came  running  out,  breathless. 
She  whispered  hurriedly  in  my  ear ;  "  There  was  a 
message  left.  Ye  wasn't  well.  I  reckon  'twas  a  mes- 
sage. When  fisherman  and  that  other  one  came  up  from 
the  shore,  day  o'  the  storm,  he  came  to  our  house  for 
Sim  to  take  him  to  Wallen.  He  said  it  was  better  to  be 
the  dead  one  than  him.  He  was  awful  white,  and  Sim 
got  harnessed,  and  just  as  fisherman  was  goin'  out,  he 
left  a  message  along  o'  me,  though  there  wasn't  no 
names  mentioned,  and  he  talked  queer;  but  he 
wanted  as  somebody  should  know  that  he  realized  it  all 
now,  and  he  couldn't  make  up  for  it,  never  ;  but  it  was 
go'n'  to  be  new  or  nothin'  for  him,  and  they  shouldn't 
want  for  nothin',  never,  and  kep'  a  sayin'  more,  and  no 
message,  exactly,  as  ye  could  call  a  message,  but  I 
reckoned  —  I  thought  —  may  be " 

Emily's  glowing  eyes,  fixed  on  my  face,  grew  very 
wide  and  grave.  I  could  only  press  her  hand  in  parting, 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


331 


for  Grandpa,  growing  impatient,  had  succeeded  in 
clucking  Fanny  on  again. 

We  drove  along  the  river  road,  and,  passing  through 
the  Indian  encampment,  there  were  more  good-byes  ex- 
changed by  the  roadside. 

Then  climbing  up  "  Sandy  Slope,"  beyond  the  settle- 
ment, we  heard  the  shrill  "  Hullo !  "  of  a  familiar  voice, 
and  looking  back,  saw  Bachelor  Lot  running  after  us 
very  swiftly,  his  head  destitute  of  covering,  and  his 
little  wizened  face  glowing  red  as  the  celestial  Mars  in 
the  distance.  He  looked  like  some  odd,  fantastic  toy 
that  had  been  wound  up  and  set  going. 

So  he  came  up  with  us,  and  trying  to  conceal  his 
breathlessness  in  polite  little  "  hums  and  haws,"  deliv- 
ered aside,  he  oftered  me  a  huge  bouquet,  composed,  I 
should  think,  of  every  sort  of  wild-flower  available  on 
the  Cape  at  that  season,  and  showing,  in  its  arrange- 
ment, marks  of  the  most  arduous  striving  after  artistic 
effect.  In  the  other  hand,  he  held  out  to  me  a  basket 
of  large,  selected  boxberries. 

I  accepted  the  gifts  with  unaffected  delight,  and 
thanked  Bachelor  Lot  warmly.  I  looked  back  at  him, 
trudging  cheerfully  homeward  through  the  sand,  so 
withered  and  small,  with  the  gray  in  his  hair,  and  his 
coat  so  much  too  long  for  him  —  back  to  the  poor 
brown  house,  which  no  tender  love  had  ever  hallowed, 
or  merry  waiting  laugh  made  bright  for  him ;  and  I 
wondered,  along  his  life's  way  which  looked  so  sad  and 
desolate,  what  hidden  wild  flowers  God  had  strewed  for 
him,  that  he  seemed  always  so  humbly  cheerful  and 
content,  and  brought  his  best  of  offerings  with  a  smile 
to  bless  the  happier  lot  of  others. 


332  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

For  the  rest  of  the  way,  the  wild  untenanted  stretch 
was  unbroken  by  any  incident ;  yet  I  remember  no 
tedium  by  the  way;  and  I  believe  that  a  trip  taken 
with  Grandma  and  Grandpa  Keeler  through  the  most 
trackless  desert  would  inevitably  have  been  made  to 
teem  with  diversion.  Those  blessed  souls !  I  smile, 
looking  back,  but  through  tears,  and  with  a  reverence 
and  tenderness  far  deeper  than  the  smile. 

By  the  time  we  reached  the  West  Wallen  depot  the 
sky  had,  clouded  over. 

"A  little  shower  comin'  up,"  Grandma  said,  but 
Grandpa  shook  his  head  and  prophesied  "  a  long,  stiddy 
spell  o'  weather." 

•  I  persuaded  my  friends  not  to  wait  with  me  for  the 
arrival  of  the  train  which,  owing  to  some  discrepancy 
in  the  matter  of  time  between  Wallencamp  and  West 
Wallen,  would  not  be  due  for  an  hour  or  more. 

I  watched  them  out  of  sight,  the  last  of  my  Wallen- 
camp !  How  deeply,  how  utterly  it  had  grown  into  my 
life,  so  that  now,  in  spite  of  the  secret,  glad  exultation 
I  felt  at  the  thought  of  going  home,  my  heart  went  run- 
ning out  after  that  quaint,  receding  vehicle,  and  aching 
sensibly. 

On  board  the  train  at  last,  I  began  to  experience 
something  of  the  sensation  of  one  who  awakens  from 
a  long  sleep  to  the  half-forgotten  ways  of  men  and  life 
with  a  vague,  untroubled  wonder  as  to  the  latest  styles 
in  dress  ;  or,  like  a  traveller  from  a  strange  country, 
weary,  and  way-worn,  and  out  of  date,  who  yet  can 
smile,'  hugging  in  his  breast  the  happy  secret  of  bound- 
less wealth  in  the  gold-mine  he  has  discovered  far 
away. 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS.  333 

I  had  neither  umbrella,  portmanteau,  nor  shawl-strap ; 
such  ordinary  paraphernalia  of  travel  I  remembered 
once  to  have  possessed,  and  tried  in  vain  to  recall  the 
particular  occasions  on  which  they  had  been  wrecked  in 
Wallencamp.  I  bore  with  me  my  bouquet,  my  basket 
of  boxberries,  some  small  cedar  trees  for  transplanting, 
and  half  of  the  largest  clam-shell  the  shores  of  Cape 
Cod  had  ever  produced  ;  this  last  a  parting  gift  from 
Lovell  Barlow. 

I  was  far  from  being  troubled  with  the  consciousness 
of  anything  quaint  or  bizarre  in  my  appearance.  I  felt 
no  mortification  on  account  of  these  treasures  so  intrin- 
sically dear  to  my  heart ;  but  Grandma  Keeler  had 
insisted  on  binding  a  mustard  paste  on  my  chest.  It 
was  a  parting  request  —  I  could  not  have  refused  —  but 
in  the  close  air  of  the  car  the  physical  torture  began  to 
be  extreme.  Tears  fell  on  the  cedar  spray  at  my  side, 
yet  was  1  withal  strangely,  peacefully  happy. 

It  was  raining  when  I  passed  through  Boston.  Once 
more  in  the  din  of  a  city,  jolting  noisily  over  the  rough, 
uneven  pavements,  I  found  myself  wondering  continually 
if  the  Keelers  had  reached  home,  and  imagining  how  the 
rain  was  falling  gently,  quietly,  on  the  roof  of  the  Ark. 

At  the  next  stage,  at  Hartford,  I  was  half  afraid  that 
I  should  meet  brother  or  sister  or  some  member  of  the 
family,  and  so  have  the  complete  effect  of  my  "  surprise  " 
destroyed  ;  but  I  saw  none  of  them.  There  were  few 
passengers  on  boan}  the  Newtown-bound  train.  It  was 
raining  still.  I  was  growing  more  and  more  glad  at 
heart,  and  looking  out  with  my  arm  pressed  against  the 
window,  when  I  heard  a  voice  right  over  me  —  a  soft, 
pitiful,  thrilling  exclamation  :  — 


334  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

"  Great  Heavens !  " 

I  looked  up  and  saw  John  Cable. 

He  sank  slowly  down  into  the  seat  in  front  of  me  and, 
for  a  moment,  neither  of  us  spoke.  I  did  not  mind 
meeting  John.  I  had  not  thought  of  including  him  in 
the  surprise.  The  sight  of  his  familiar,  friendly  face  gave 
me  a  positive  thrill  of  pleasure,  but  there  was  something 
in  his  manner  that  kept  me  silent. 

I  said  :  "  I  am  going  to  surprise  them,  John." 

There  was  nothing  offensive  in  the  grave,  swift  glance 
with  which  John  Cable  then  took  me  in,  me  and  my  bou- 
quet of  wilted  wild-flowers  and  my  small  cedar  trees,  only 
a  slow,  solemn  distinctness  in  his  tone. 

"  You  will  succeed,"  he  said.  "  Undoubtedly  you  will 
succeed." 

Still  I  felt  no  resentment.  A  gentle,  sorrowful  per- 
plexity filled  my  breast. 

"  Why,  do  —  I  —  look  —  very  —  very  —  unusual, 
John  ?  "  I  questioned,  and  looking  in  his  face  I  wondered 
why,  in  the  old  days  of  careless  jest  and  repartee,  he 
had  never  seemed  so  moved. 

More  words  he  said,  but  I  could  not  bear  them  then, 
and  tears  from  an  inward  pain  fell  on  the  cedar  spray, 
yet  I  was  glad  that  I  had  not  grown  so  unusual  that 
people  would  never  like  me  any  more. 

Next,  the  surprise  was  a  success,  as  John  Cable  had 
predicted,  but  that  was  the  one  point  in  my  career  in 
which  my  genius  had  never  failed  me.  My  surprises, 
though  inclined  to  take  something  of  the  nature  of  an 
accumulation  of  calamities,  had  never  lacked  the  great 
element  of  awe-producing  wonder. 

For  the  rest,  I  had  known  that  I  should  be  forgiven, 


CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 


335 


and  received  with  the  usual  Icl&t  of  the  returned  prodi- 
gal into  the  family  bosom  —  but  to  be  held  up  on  suc- 
cessive days  as  an  object  of  ever-increasing  marvel  and 
interest,  as  one  whose  words  and  acts  were  endowed 
with  a  peculiar  significance,  as  the  light  of  the  social 
fireside,  the  enchanter  of  small  spell-bound  audiences! 
Well,  I  had  been  spoiled  so  early  in  life  that  little  was 
needed  to  complete  the  wieck.  I  felt  a  deeper  satis- 
faction when,  as  I  was  meekly  beseeching  our  Bridget's 
instruction  in  some  particular  branch  of  the  culinary  art, 
that  majestic  female  observed,  as  she  folded  her  arms 
and  looked  down  on  me  complacently  :  — 

"There's  one  thing  I  like  better  about  you  than  I 
used  to,  miss — you  do  have  to  wade  through  a  great 
de^al  o'  fluur  to  larn  a  little  plain  cookin',  but  Job  him- 
self couldn't  a'  be'n  no  patienter."  And  it  was  indeed 
true  that  my  "  Graham  gems  "  never  quite  reached  per- 
fection, though  they  bore  with  them  marks  of  earnest  and 
faithful  endeavor. 

I  found  new  sources  of  interest  everywhere,  and  in 
ways  which  I  had  formerly  regarded  with  aversion  and 
disdain. 

At  the  "  Newtown  Ladies'  Charitable  Sewing  Society," 
I  was  elevated  from  among  the  common  stitchers  and 
sewers,  for  faithfulness  in  service,  —  I  believe,  though 
malicious  fingers  would  point  to  the  distortion  of  the 
legs  of  little  heathens'  trpusers  —  to  a  place  on  the  "  cut' 
ting  circle."  From  the  cutting  circle,  it  is  needless  to 
say,  I  was  speedily  exalted  to  a  presidential  chair  of 
easeful  observation  and  general  vague  superintend- 
ency. 

Later,  there  was  a  revival  of   the  "Literary  Club." 


336  CAPE   COD  FOLKS. 

There  John  Cable  and  I  shone  once  more  amid  a  group 
of  familiar  and  undimmed  luminaries.  John  Cable 
never  took  up  the  exact  thread  of  the  discourse  broken 
off  so  abruptly  on  the  day  of  my  return,  in  the  cars,  but 
it  was  when  coming  home  from  the  club  one  evening 
that  he  expressed  himself  to  the  effect  that  I  had  always 
been  a  great  burden  on  his  mind,  ever  since  the  first 
day  he  led  me  to  school,  and,  to  be  sure,  I  had  shown 
signs  of  improvement  lately,  but  there  was  always  a 
pardonable  doubt  as  to  what  I  might  do  next,  and  it 
was  wearing  on  him,  and  would  I  set  his  mind  at  rest 
by  allowing  him,  in  some  sense,  to  take  the  direction  of 
my  life  into  his  own  hands  ? 

John,  though  of  adverse  views,  had  been  heatedly 
discussing  the  merits  of  the  Capital  Punishment  ques- 
tion at  the  club,  so  I  was  not  surprised  at  the  unusual 
grace  and  flow  of  his  address. 

Years  have  passed  since  that  evening.  I  have  been 
very  happy  as  John's  wife.  If  I  wander  in  my  story, 
be  it  said  that  little  John  is  running  a  model  express- 
train  on  the  floor  over  my  head.  Little  John,  when 
not  dreaming,  exercises  a  vast  amount  of  destructive 
physical  force. 

A  little  more  than  a  year  after  I  left  Wallencamp,  I 
heard  of  Grandma  and  Grandpa  Keeler's  death.  "  Very 
quiet  and  peaceful,"  they  said  concerning  Grandma, 
but  I  had  known  what  sort  of  a  death-bed  hers  would 
be.  Scarcely  a  week  after  she  had  passed  away,  Grand- 
pa Keeler  followed  her.  I  had  it  from  good  authority 
that  he  kept  about  the  house  till  the  last.  There  was  a 
"rainy  spell,"  and  he  stood  often  gazing  out  of  the  win- 


'THEY   PASS  TO  THEIR   SWE£T  WILD   REST  BESIDE  THE   SEA. 
Page  337 


CAPE   COD   FOLKS. 


337 


dow  "  with  a  lost  look  on  his  face,"  and  once  he  said 
with  a  wistful,  broken  utterance  and  a  pathetic  longing 
in  his  eyes  that  did  away  forever  with  any  opprobrium 
there  might  have  been  in  connection  with  the  term,  that 
"  it  was  gittin'  to  be  very  lonely  about  the  house  without 
ma  pesterin'  on  him." 

Since  then,  I  have  not  heard  from  Wallencamp.  It 
is  doubtful  whether  I  ever  get  another  letter  from  that 
source.  Though  singularly  gifted  in  the  epistolary 
art,  it  is  but  a  dull  and  faint  means  of  expression  to  the 
souls  of  the  Wallencampers  —  and  they  will  not  forget. 
From  the  storms  that  shake  their  earthly  habitations, 
they  pass  to  their  sweet,  wild  rest  beside  the  sea ;  and 
by  and  by,  when  I  meet  them,  I  shall  hear  them  sing. 


000 


